Little  Legacy 


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A    LITTLE   LEGACY 


ASOUNO  .NEVER  HEARD 
BEFORE  BY  HIS 

EXTERIOR    ft  [CLERICAL 


A 

LITTLE    LEGACY 

<Sr 

OTHER    STORIES 


MRS.  L.  B.  WALFORD 


HERBERT  S.  STONE  AND  COMPANY 

CHICAGO  AND  NEW  YORK 

MDCCCXCIX 


COPYRIGHT    1899,    BY 
HERBERT    S.   STONE    &    CO 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  LITTLE  LEGACY      ....  3 

A  CLERICAL  EXTERIOR      ...  55 

ONLY  KITTIE 115 

A  TERRIULE  MOMENT         .        .         .  169 

JEMIMA:     A  METAMORPHOSIS         .        .  221 

THE  JUBILEE  SEAT    ....  271 
THOSE  SORT  OF  PEOPLE        .        .         -3" 


2229441 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 


The  Little  Legacy 


"Y/ealth  often  sowes  in  keeping." 

—  QUARLES. 


"A  hundred  thousand  is  such  a 
good  round  sum,  "  said  Mr.  Mapleson, 
tentatively.  "Seems  a  pity  to  spoil 
the  symmetry  of  it,  eh?  Any  little 
odds  and  ends  that  might  be  over" 
—  and  he  looked  at  his  client,  as 
though  feeling  his  way,  with  the 
caution  habitual  to  a  confidential 
adviser  upon  delicate  ground. 

"It  might  be  more  than  odds  and 
ends,"  replied  the  client. 

"Of  course  —  of  course.  Might  run 
up  to  another  'century,'  or  —  to  any- 
thing you  please.  But  as  it  stands 
you  wish  to  leave  a  hundred  thou- 
sand —  the  amount  of  your  actual 
capital  at  the  present  moment  —  to 


4  THE    LITTLE   LEGACY 

your  nearest  of  kin,  Mr.  Charles 
Grenoble ;  and  there  are  a  few  hun- 
dreds over " 

"A  thousand,"  corrected  the 
client. 

"A  thousand.  And  there  may  be 
a  few  more  thousands — there  may 
be,  as  I  said,  anything  you  like  to 
name.  Should  it  amount  to  any 
decent  sum — say,  to  ten  or  twenty- 
nothing  would  be  easier  than  to  add 
this  on ;  but  meantime — hum,  ha — is 
there  no  one?  Have  you  no  poor 
devil  of  a  relation  to  whom  such  a 
trifle " 

' '  You  have  some  one  in  your  eye. ' ' 
Mr.  Grenoble,  the  Mr.  Grenoble 
whose  will  was  being  made,  was  a 
man  of  quick  intelligence,  and  knew 
his  old  friend  in  and  out.  "Out 
with  it,  Mapleson.  Of  whom  are 
you  thinking?" 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  Ton  my  word — " 
the  lawyer  laughed,  played  with  his 
pen,  and  shot  a  glance.  He  had 


THE   LITTLE   LEGACY  5 

not  meant  to  be  detected  in  a  stray 
impulse;  and,  moreover,  was  not 
precisely  sure  whether  detection 
might  not  defeat  his  object.  "You 
are  so  uncommonly  sharp, ' '  he  mur- 
mured, "that  —  well  —  it's  no  use 
beating  about  the  bush  with  you;  I 
had  best  own  up,  I  suppose:  there 
is  that  poor  fellow,  Tom  Hatha- 
way  " 

"Oh,  bother  Tom  Hathaway!" 

"He  is  some  sort  of  cousin,  isn't 
he?" 

"Cousin?  What's  a  cousin?" 
The  rich  Mr.  Grenoble  frowned  and 
growled  over  his  basin  of  soup.  He 
was  an  invalid  for  the  time  being, 
and  had  summoned  his  solicitor  to 
his  sick-room,  having,  as  he  said,  a 
day  or  two  leisure  wherein  to  look 
into  his  affairs. 

"If  one  were  to  take  into  consider- 
ation every  poor,  shiftless  hanger-on 
who  calls  himself  a  cousin " 

"Quite  so,  quite  so.     It  is  simply 


6  THE    LITTLE   LEGACY 

folly  to  fritter  away  capital  in 
driblets.  I  catch  your  meaning; 
and  we  are  quite  at  one  on  the  point. 
Still" — the  lawyer  yawned  and 
shifted  his  leg — "still,  Tom  is  a 
decent  fellow;  and  I  fancy,  with  a 
wife  and  a  large  family,  must  find  it 
rather  a  struggle ' ' 

"What  business  has  a  man  in  his 
position  with  a  wife  and  a  large 
family?" 

"None  whatever,  of  course,"  said 
Mr.  Mapleson,  cheerfully.  "You 

and  I,  two  jolly  bachelors "  and 

he  proceeded  to  enlarge. 

It  took  an  hour's  time,  but  ere  the 
close  of  the  interview  he  had  gained 
his  point.  For  each  objection  raised 
he  had  a  cordial  assent ;  in  all  gen- 
eral condemnation  of  poor  men,  and 
the  desirability  of  ignoring  their 
existence,  and  leaving  them  to  lie 
upon  the  bed  themselves  had  made, 
he  could  promptly  acquiesce;  but 
insensibly  the  wealthy  testator  found 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  7 

himself  being  led,  first  to  argue  the 
pros  and  cons  of  the  case  in  ques- 
tion, then  to  yield  a  sort  of  tacit 
consent,  fenced  in  by  many  a  reser- 
vation; and  finally  to  permit  the 
clause  to  be  added  which  his  legal 
adviser  had  intended  to  add  from 
the  beginning  of  the  conversation. 

"Now,  what  on  earth  did  I  do  that 
for?"  muttered  the  latter  to  himself 
as,  the  business  concluded,  he  went 
his  way.  "It  has  cost  me  a  lot  of 
time  and  trouble;  and,  except  for 
the  pleasure  of  getting  my  own 
way,  I  can't  imagine  what  object  I 
had  in  view.  Benevolence  isn't  in 
my  line.  And  it's  a  queer  sort  of 
thing  that  the  sight  of  a  man's  face, 
and  a  few  ordinary  words  let  fall  in 
my  hearing — not  even  addressed  to 
me — should  have  stirred  up  all  this 
coil!  It's  not  likely  to  do  any  good, 
either.  Grenoble  may  live  for 
twenty  years,  and  pile  up  his  'cen- 
turies' like  W.  G.  Grace.  He  will 


8  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

be  sending  for  me  again  before  I  can 
look  round,  to  make  a  new  will,  and 
bowl  out  poor  Tom.  Gad !  I  wish 
I  had  let  Tom  alone!  It  is  two 
o'clock  now,"  consulting  his  watch, 
"and  I  ought  to  have  lunched  at 
one;  and  though  I  told  Grenoble 
that  it  was  no  matter,  when  he  was 
sitting  sipping  his  slops  in  his  com- 
fortable armchair,  I  didn't  bargain 
for  having  to  go  without  food  until 
an  hour  beyond  my  usual  time. 
What  did  I  do  it  for,  I  say?"  pro- 
ceeded the  lawyer,  testily.  "Be- 
cause I  am  an  old  fool,  and  Tom 
Hathaway's  hungry  face — there  he 
is  now,  coming  out  of  a  tea  shop!" 
suddenly  bending  forward,  as  his 
hansom  whirled  rapidly  along  the 
Strand.  "Had  a  roll  and  butter  for 
his  luncheon,  I  dare  say — and  some 
coffee,  or  disgusting  trash  of  that 
kind!  No  wonder  he  looks  white 
and  thin !  Digestion  all  gone  to  the 
dogs,  I'll  be  bound.  Faith!  Tom, 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  9 

if  you  knew  what  I've  been  doing 
for  you  just  now,"  apostrophising 
the  unconscious  pedestrian  who 
hurried  past,  and  was  soon  lost  in 
the  crowd,  "you'd  hold  your 
shoulders  a  little  straighter,  my 
man!  But  it'll  all  come  to  nothing 
— it'll  all  come  to  nothing,"  mused 
Mr.  Herbert  Mapleson,  his  busy 
mind  again  at  work  on  contingencies 
and  probabilities.  "Tom's  little 
legacy  will  never  come  off,  I 
shouldn't  mind  betting  a  hundred 
to  one.  Lucky  he  doesn't  know  of 
it!  'Blessed  are  they  which  expect 
nothing,  for  they  shall  not  be  disap- 
pointed.'  "  And  dismissing  the 
subject  from  his  thoughts,  the  pros- 
perous man  of  business  settled  down 
to  other  matters,  which  demanded 
the  whole  of  his  time  and  attention 
until  the  close  of  the  day. 

Nothing  was  further  from  his 
anticipations  than  to  have  it  recalled 
within  the  week — almost,  as  he 


10  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

declared  among  his  colleagues, 
before  the  ink  was  dry  upon  the 
parchment — by  the  swift  develop- 
ment of  his  old  friend's  complaint, 
ending  as  it  did  in  Mr.  Grenoble's 
decease  before  the  lapse  of  another 
month. 

"Bless  my  soul!  if  Tom  Hathaway 
hasn't  come  in  for  that  legacy  after 
all!  I — 'pon  my  word — I  little 
thought  I  was  doing  Tom  such  a 
good  turn." 

It  was  not  perhaps  strictly 
decorous,  but  this  was,  as  a  fact,  Mr. 
Mapleson's  first  thought  on  receiv- 
ing the  intelligence. 

He  had  been  prepared  for  it.  The 
doctors  had  looked  serious  from  the 
day  on  which  a  change  set  in  and 
new  symptoms  appeared  (that  being, 
as  we  have  said,  very  shortly  after 
the  interview  above  narrated  took 
place) ;  in  consequence  our  legal 
friend  had  had  time  to  acclimatise 
himself  to  the  idea,  and  to  ponder 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  II 

at  intervals  over  the  contents  of  the 
will  which  he  had  so  recently  drawn 
up ;  also  to  heave  an  easy  sigh  now 
and  again  on  the  altar  of  friendship. 

But  he  had  never  known  Mr. 
Grenoble  intimately;  their  relations 
had  always  been  more  or  less  on  a 
business  footing;  and  he  knew  so 
many  people — met  so  many  familiar 
countenances  every  day — had  such 
innumerable  interests,  and  such  a 
cool  head  and  heart  wherewith  to 
meet  them — that  one  loss  in  the 
large  circle  of  his  acquaintance — 
one,  moreover,  which  did  not  enter 
into  his  daily  life — could  not  be 
expected  to  affect  him  deeply. 

Furthermore,  there  was  a  "big 
thing"  on  the  Stock  Exchange 
which  interested  Mr.  Mapleson  very 
keenly  indeed.  He  could  not  quite 
make  up  his  mind  about  it;  it  might 
be  that  he  was  losing  a  chance;  on 
the  other  hand,  he  was  disinclined 
to  meddle  with  any  of  his  invest- 


12  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

ments,  and  had  no  loose  money 
handy  at  the  moment.  He  was  almost 
worried  about  the  matter;  and  had 
nearly  decided  to  let  things  go,  and 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  Growings 
over  their  luck  which  fortunate 
speculators  kept  pouring  into  his 
ear,  when  the  post  brought  him  a 
large  fee  which  came  in  a  manner 
unexpectedly — that  is  to  say,  he  had 
not  reckoned  upon  its  payment 
before  a  later  date.  He  took  the 
cheque  and  looked  at  it;  then  he 
rang  the  bell.  Within  half  an  hour 
his  broker  on  'Change  had  received 
an  order.  This  was  on  the  day  of 
Mr.  Grenoble's  demise. 

It  was  a  matter  of  course  that  Mr. 
Mapleson  should  attend  the  funeral, 
which  followed  within  the  week; 
and  he  reflected  that  after  discharg- 
ing that  unpleasant  duty — for  the 
day  was  bitterly  cold  and  raw,  and 
the  long,  slow  drive  to  Kensal 
Green,  in  addition  to  the  rest  of  the 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  13 

ceremonial,  was  a  detestable  pros- 
pect— he  should  at  least  have  some 
gratification  in  the  two  legal  com- 
munications regarding  the  nature  of 
the  will,  which  would  fall  to  his 
pen.  One  of  these,  indeed,  he 
dashed  off  through  his  clerk  as  he 
was  putting  on  his  great  coat. 

"Poor  Tom  Hathaway  will  go 
home  a  trifle  warmer  this  wretched 
evening  if  he  carries  this  note  in 
his  waistcoat  pocket,"  reflected  he, 
briskly  moving  about  and  turning 
over  papers  to  make  sure  that  noth- 
ing was  forgotten. 

"I  shan't  return  to  the  office,  Wil- 
liams," aloud  to  the  confidential 
clerk.  "It  will  be  late  before  I  get 
back  from  the  cemetery,  and  Mr. 
Charles  Grenoble  may  wish  me  to  go 
with  him  to  his  house.  But  mind 
that  I  get  all  notes  and  letters  which 
come  in  before  the  office  closes,  as 
soon  afterwards  as  possible.  Bring 
them  to  me  yourself.  And  if  Mr. 


14  THE   LITTLE    LEGACY 

So-and-So  should  send  over  (naming 
his  broker),  'go  and  see  him  your- 
self; tell  him  where  I  am  gone,  and 
if  he  has  any  message  of  importance, 
ask  him  either  to  wire  or  to  give  you 
a  note.  Prepare  the  draft  for  Mr. 
Charles  Grenoble,  and  bring  it  to 
me  to  sign.  I  don't  think  there  is 
anything  else;"  and  taking  up  his 
hat  and  gloves  the  speaker,  some- 
what ruefully,  quitted  his  snug 
chamber  and  prepared  to  brave  the 
raw  atmosphere  of  a  November 
afternoon. 

But  few  of  those  who  had  known 
the  late  Mr.  Grenoble  cared  to  do 
the  same;  and  it  appeared  that  on 
the  return  journey  his  nephew  and 
only  relation  present  was  about  to 
drive  alone  in  the  mourning  coach 
which  had  followed  next  the  hearse 
in  the  outward-bound  procession, 
when  on  a  sudden  Mr.  Mapleson 
took  a  resolution.  He  had  been 
somewhat  coldly  greeted  by  the  prin- 


THE    LITTLE   LEGACY  15 

cipal  mourner,  for  whom  he  had 
neither  liking  nor  esteem — (and  it 
may  be  added  that  he  had  merely 
thrown  in  the  suggestion  of  going  to 
Mr.  Charles  Grenoble's  house,  above 
recorded,  as  an  excuse  for  not 
returning  to  the  City,  rather  than 
from  any  real  intention  of  carrying 
it  into  effect) — but  it  occurred  to 
him  now  that  it  might  be  rather  an 
amusing  experience  to  try  the  effect 
of  unbosoming  himself  regarding  the 
will  he  had  drawn  up  a  month 
before,  when  alone  with  the  prin- 
cipal legatee. 

"Whatever  he  may  expect,  he  can't 
be  certain  of  anything,"  reflected 
the  lawyer,  shrewdly,  "and  I  should 
doubt  if  he  even  has  any  great 
expectations.  There  was  no  love 
lost  between  the  two.  They  kept 
aloof  from  each  other  as  much  as 
they  could,  and  snapped  and  snarled 
when  they  had  to  meet.  They  were 
as  like  as  two  peas — a  couple  of 


l6  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

surly,  selfish,  ill-conditioned  peas. 
But  'tis  ill  speaking  hard  words  of 
the  dead,"  hastily  covering  his  head 
again,  as  the  group  moved  away 
from  the  grave.  "I  oughtn't  to 
have  been  thinking  of  such  things 
just  now,"  with  a  twinge  of  re- 
morse, "and  perhaps  poor  Charles 
Grenoble,"  casting  a  glance  in  the 
latter 's  direction,  "would  be  hurt 
and  affronted  if  he  knew.  He  may 
have  some  feeling,  for  all  that  stucco 
face.  Anyhow,  he'll  look  sweet  for 
once,  when  he  hears  he  has  come  in 
for  a  hundred  thousand  pounds. 
That's  a  lubrication  adamant  itself 
can't  resist.  He  might  even  give 
me  some  of  the  handling  of  it, ' '  and 
Mr.  Mapleson  was  presently  by  the 
other's  side. 

"If  you  have  no  objection,  I  shall 
ride  home  with  you?"  And  a  some- 
what stiff  assent  having  been  signi- 
fied, the  coach  started  with  its  two 
occupants. 


THE    LITTLE   LEGACY  17 

"You  will  receive  a  formal  com- 
munication from  me  in  the  course 
of  this  evening,  Mr.  Grenoble." 
("May  as  well  begin  at  once,"  cog- 
itated the  lawyer,  feeling  that  the 
sooner  the  ice  was  broken  the  bet- 
ter.) Then  he  emitted  a  little 
preliminary  cough,  and  straightened 
his  collar.  "I  dare  say  that  its  con- 
tents will  be  no  surprise."  Here 
the  speaker  paused,  awaiting  some 
sign  of  interest.  None  came. 

"Being  the  late  Mr.  Grenoble's 
natural  heir" — (another  pause;  Mr. 
Charles  Grenoble  looked  straight  in 
front  of  him) — "you  are,  of  course, 
prepared  to  hear  that  he  has  made  a 
will  in  your  favour."  Still  no 
response. 

("Won't  commit  himself,"  mut- 
tered Mapleson,  internally.  "Un- 
civil brute,  as  he  always  was!") 

"I  drew  it  up  a  month  ago,"  pro- 
ceeded he,  aloud,  "and  am  pleased 
to  be  able  to  inform  you —  (Hanged 


l8  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

if  I  am  pleased!"  mental  comment) 
— "that  the  amount  of  your  uncle's 
capital  at  that  time  was  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds ;  which  sum  is  left 
to  you  unconditionally.  Your  uncle 
was  worth  a  hundred  thousand  odd, 
I  should  say — for  there  was  a  trifle 
over,  how  much  I  don't  quite  know 
— bequeathed  to  another  and  more 
distant  relation. ' ' 

"To  whom?"  For  the  first  time 
the  fixed,  immovable  lips  parted; 
but  the  head  did  not  turn — no, 
not  by  a  hair's  breadth — towards 
Mr.  Charles  Grenoble's  compan- 
ion. 

"To  whom?  To  your  cousin,  Mr. 
Thomas  Hathaway.  Mr.  Hatha- 
way  " 

"I  have  no  interest  in  Mr.  Hatha- 
way. ' ' 

"Ah,  indeed;  no  family  inter- 
course. Yes,  I  suppose  so;  I 
understood  as  much;  but  Mr. 
Grenoble  thought " 


THE   LITTLE   LEGACY  19 

A  wave  of  the  other's  hand  dis- 
posed of  Mr.  Grenoble's  thoughts. 

("What  on  earth — is  he  not  going 
to  say  anything?  Was  there  ever 

such  a Confound  it !  I  wish  I 

had  not  let  myself  in  for  this !  Devil 
take  him  and  his  hundred  thou- 
sand!") The  lawyer's  temper  was 
rising;  Mr.  Mapleson  was  not  a  man 
to  be  treated  with  indignity;  and  the 
present  rebuff  was  the  more  acutely 
felt  in  that  he  had  prepared  himself 
for  something  altogether  different. 

He  would  have  had  no  objection  to 
a  passage  at  arms  with  Mr.  Charles 
Grenoble  at  any  time ;  even  coldness 
and  silence  could  have  had  their  tit- 
for-tat  on  any  other  occasion.  But 
to  have  somewhat  genially  broached 
a  subject,  confident  of  its  favourable 
reception,  one  which  should  have 
obtained  at  least  a  civil  hearing,  and 
display  of  interest,  if  not  of  warmth 
— and  to  have  been  snubbed — yes, 
actually  snubbed — as  though  he  had 


20  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

made  an  officious  and  altogether 
superfluous  communication,  was 
intolerable. 

He  drew  himself  upright  in  his 
corner,  vowing  inwardly  that  he  had 
learned  a  lesson  in  mankind.  Even 
the  acquisition  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  would  not  make  a  cur 
less  a  cur  for  a  single  fraction  of  a 
minute,  than  he  was  by  nature. 

Certes,  if  silence  were  the  order  of 
the  day,  he  would  not  again  essay 
to  break  it.  He  too  could  look 
gloomily  out  of  his  window,  and 
occupy  himself  with  his  own  reflec- 
tions. 

He  had  enough  to  think  about,  in 
all  conscience.  Perhaps  at  that  very 
time  he  was  making  a  handsome 
coup  on  'Change,  one  which  should 
bring  him  in,  if  not  a  hundred  thou- 
sand, at  any  rate  what  would  be  a 
very  solid  addition  to  his  already 
flourishing  income.  He  would  be 
pleased  enough  to  net  his  six  or 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  21 

seven  thousand,  and  would  not  be 
above  owning  it.  Indeed,  he 
frankly  avowed  to  himself  that  the 
telling  his  friends,  and  chuckling 
over  his  good  fortune  with  them, 
would  be  the  "milk  in  the  cocoanut" 
of  the  whole  proceeding. 

Mr.  Maple  son  was  not  an  avari- 
cious man,  and  had  already  all  his 
wants  supplied,  together  with  a 
future  comfortably  provided  for. 
But  it  was  his  theory  that  no  man  of 
sense  ever  despised  wealth ;  and 
since  he  himself  was  ready  to 
acknowledge  this  opinion — to  pro- 
claim and  justify  it,  if  need  were — it 
was  unendurable  in  his  eyes  that  a 
professed  money-grubber,  such  as  he 
had  always  held  Mr.  Charles 
Grenoble  to  be,  should  stroke  his 
impassive  face  and  stare  vacantly 
from  the  window,  affecting  indiffer- 
ence to  the  important  news  he  had 
just  heard.  Worse  than  all,  that  he 
should  have  the  cool  audacity  to 


22  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

imagine  that  anyone,  least  of  all 
his  clever  self,  could  be  deceived  by 
such  a  clumsy  piece  of  acting. 

As  soon  as  decency  permitted,  he 
would  end  the  scene  and  escape 
from  the  thrall  of  such  companion- 
ship— never,  he  swore  to  himself, 
to  be  caught  in  such  a  trap  again — 
and  accordingly  hailed  a  passing 
hansom,  the  first  that  came  in 
sight. 

"You  are  getting  out  here?"  Mr. 
Charles  Grenoble  involuntarily  ex- 
hibited participation  in  the  other's 
relief;  then,  to  the  lawyer's  amaze- 
ment, held  out  his  hand  with  actual 
and  undisguised  cordiality.  "Stop 
one  moment,  Mr.  Mapleson,  before 
you  get  out.  I  believe  I  ought  to 
beg  your  pardon  for  having  been 
rude  to  you  just  now.  I  am  afraid 
you  must  have  thought  my  conduct 
somewhat  extraordinary,  but  I 
assure  you  it  was  not  intentional — 
that  is  to  say,  the  fact  is  I  am  so 


THE    LITTLE   LEGACY  23 

bothered  with  money  coming  in 
from  here  and  from  there,  and  from 
goodness  knows  where,  that  some- 
times I" — (putting  his  hand  to  his 
forehead) — "the  worry  of  it  will 
drive  me  distracted  some  day,  I 
believe!  I  was  just  afraid  of  what 
my  uncle  would  do.  Of  course,  he 
could  not  leave  it  to  anyone  else; 
that  would  have  been  highly  im- 
proper; and  I  can't  imagine  what 
could  have  put  it  into  his  head  to 
throw  any  away  upon  that  poor, 
unfortunate  Tom  Hathaway,  who 
has  never  got  on  in  anything  he 
undertook,  has  never  been  the 
slightest  credit  to  the  family,  and 
has  not  been  taken  any  notice  of  by 
either  of  us  for  years  and  years. 
To  rake  him  up  now  is  a  sheer  piece 
of  folly,  and  will  lead  to  endless  com- 
plications. He  will  fancy  he  is  to 
begin  coming  to  our  houses,  and  will 
be  expecting  invitations  and  so  forth 
— and  this  when  he  has  been  kept  at 


24  THE    LITTLE   LEGACY 

arm's  length  all  his  life!  There  was 
no  need  to  have  disturbed  the  exist- 
ing state  of  things — none  whatever. 
I  must  own,  Mr.  Mapleson,  that  for 
a  moment  I  had  a  sort  of  suspicion 
that  it  was  you  who  had  been  so 
inconsiderate  as  to  prompt  my 
uncle" — (if  Mr.  Mapleson  experi- 
enced any  internal  sensations,  at 
least  he  did  not  betray  himself)— 
"and  that  annoyed  me,"  proceeded 
the  speaker,  as  though  now  satisfied 
he  had  made  a  wrongful  accusation. 
"The  whole  thing  is  annoying;  but 
I  must  do  my  best,"  heaving  a  sigh. 
"I  must  look  out  some  new  invest- 
ments, and  go  through  those  the 
funds  are  in  already.  It  will  be  a 
heap  of  trouble — endless  trouble — 
and  that  just  when  I  was  hoping  to 
take  things  a  little  more  easily.  My 
doctor  says  that  if  I  don't  take  care 
and  give  myself  more  holiday,  he 
won't  answer  for  the  consequences. 
Look  at  my  poor  uncle!  And  I 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  25 

have  double,  treble  his  responsi- 
bilities. I  have  nearly  double  as 
much  again  to  manipulate;  it's  a 
heavy  strain  upon  a  man.  I  ask 
you,  therefore,  to  excuse  me,  Mr. 
Mapleson,  if  in  the  first  flush  of 
vexation  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  acquiesce  cordially  in  the  arrange- 
ment. I  hope  you  will  overlook 
anything  that  gave  you  offence,  and 
— and  I  shall  communicate  with  you 
later  on." 

"JSIow,  how  much  of  that  was 
genuine,  and  how  much  was  hum- 
bug?" quoth  Mapleson  to  himself, 
trying  to  get  over  his  first  surprise. 
"There  was  some  truth  in  it,  but 
there  was  a  lot  of  sham.  He  does 
grudge  the  trouble;  but  he  wouldn't 
let  go  one  stiver  of  the  money — no, 
not  even  Tom  Hathaway 's  poor  little 
popgun  of  a  legacy,  if  by  hook  or  by 
crook  he  could  have  collared  it  too!" 

"Oh,  do,  Jenny,  not  heap  up  such 


26  THE   LITTLE   LEGACY 

an  enormous  fire,  and  knock  the 
ashes  about  all  over  the  place!" 

Jenny's  mamma  spoke  with  a 
fretful  intonation,  which  was  ob- 
viously foreign  to  her  nature  and 
quickly  repented  of.  "I  know  you 
mean  well,  my  dear;  and  it  is  nice 
for  your  father  to  see  a  bright  fire 
and  a  clean  hearth  when  he  comes 
in — especially  on  anight  like  this," 
glancing  outside,  for  the  shutters 
were  not  yet  shut,  and  the  street 
lamp  opposite  the  window  revealed 
the  raw,  murky  atmosphere  and 
reeking  damp  of  a  November  even- 
ing—  "but  there's  no  need  to 
waste " 

"I  didn't  mean  to  waste  at  all." 
Jenny,  a  tall  girl  of  fi/teen,  plied 
tongs  and  shovel  vigorously.  "I 
shan't  waste  a  single  cinder;  they 
shall  all  go  on  the  top,"  protested 
she,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word. 
' '  But  I  know  poor  papa  will  come  in 
cold  and  miserable,  and  you  always 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  27 

tell  me  to  make  the  room  look  com- 
fortable for  him — to  cheer  him  up 
and  give  him  a  welcome.  I  thought 
you  liked  a  good  fire, ' '  in  aggrieved 
accents. 

"Yes  —  yes,  my  dear  —  yes,  of 
course ;  I  am  not  blaming  you,  only 
coals  are  such  a  terrible  price ;  here 
is  an  enormous  bill  just  come  in;" 
the  speaker  sighed  and  glanced  at  a 
paper  in  her  hands.  "How  it  is 
ever  to  be  paid^  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know!" 

"But  you  knew  it  had  to  come, 
mamma. ' ' 

"I  knew;  but  I  hoped  to  get  some 
others  settled  first.  There  are 
several  that  I  have  been  keeping 
back ;  thinking  that,  as  this  was  the 
last  day  of  the  month,  your  father 
would  get  his  salary  paid  and  I 
could  ask  him  to  let  me  have  the 
money. ' ' 

"Well,  can't  you,  and  leave  the 
coals  for  a  little  longer?" 


28  THE    LITTLE   LEGACY 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can;  in  fact,  I  must" — 
again  the  speaker  sighed  and  looked 
dejectedly  round — "but  I  could 
hardly  bear  to  see  that  great  cart- 
load at  the  door  to-day,  just  when 
the  cook  was  telling  me  that  she 
must  have  the  plumber  sent  for  to 
the  kitchen  range,  and  that  some- 
thing has  gone  wrong  with  the  tap 
in  the  scullery  too." 

The  door  opened  and  another 
daughter  entered. 

"What  a  comfort  to  see  a  decent 
fire!"  exclaimed  she,  popping  down 
upon  a  stool  in  front.  "I  am  so 
cold  in  this  thin  frock.  Mamma,  I 
suppose  we  may  send  for  patterns 
of  warm  things  now,  mayn't  we? 
You  said  if  we  hung  on  till  the  end 
of  November  we  could  get  our 
winter  frocks  in  time  for  Christmas. 
And  I  have  been  thinking " 

"Do  you  suppose  you  really  must 
have  them?  There  are  so  many  of 
you,  if  we  once  begin ;  and  now  that 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  29 

skirts  are  so  wide  they  take  such 
yards  and  yards  of  material " 

"I  was  going  to  say,"  said  Bertha, 
looking-  thoughtfully  into  the  fire, 
' '  that  if  we  could  have  some  stuff  for 
new  blouses — some  really  good,  nice- 
looking,  warm  material,  velveteen 
or  corduro)7 " 

"Corduroy  is  very  expensive," 
interpolated  her  mother. 

"It  would  be  nothing  compared 
with  the  expense  of  coats  and  skirts 
such  as  other  girls  have.  And  we 
might  manage  to  make  our  old  skirts 
do  by  lining  them  with  flannel  or 
flannelette." 

"Oh,  Bertha,  mine  could  never 
do."  The  younger  and  less  con- 
siderate Jenny  rushed  into  the  arena 
with  a  terrified  protest.  "Mine  is 
all  stained  and  frayed,"  cried  she, 
exhibiting  here  and  there  the 
deficiencies  indicated. 

But  Bertha  was  resolute.  "It 
could  be  turned,"  said  she, 


30  THE    LITTLE   LEGACY 

decidedly.  "You  could  help  to  do  it 
yourself,  if  we  had  some  one  in  to 
make  the  blouses;  we  could  easily 
work  under  her  direction.  But, 
mamma,"  in  a  lower  voice,  "I  am 
afraid  the  little  ones  really  must 
have  some  new  underclothing-.  You 
know  how  Wynnie  has  been  cough- 
ing all  this  week,  and  when  I  went 
into  the  nursery  this  morning,  Jane 
told  me  she  did  not  like  to  worry 
you,  but  that  she  was  sure  both  the 
children  were  not  properly  clothed 
for  this  weather.  She  showed  me 

their  things " 

"They  shall  have  what  they 
require;  I  shall  manage  it  some- 
how," said  Mrs.  Hathaway,  hur- 
riedly; "I  have  still  something  to 
sell,"  involuntarily  turning  round 
the  diamond  ring  upon  her  finger. 
"Bertha — Jenny — not  a  word  to  your 
father — nor  to  the  boys — nor  any- 
one. At  least  we  can  spare  them 
this.  And  if  I  should  get  enough," 


THE   LITTLE    LEGACY  31 

looking  fondly  at  her  sole  ornament, 
"for  you,  my  poor  dears,  to  have — " 

"Never  mind  us. "  Bertha  came 
and  threw  herself  across  her 
mother's  knees.  "We  can  do  very 
well.  I  didn't  know  it  was  as  bad  as 
that,  mamma;  only  the  poor  chil- 
dren  " 

"Yes,  yes;  you  were  quite  right  to 
tell  me  about  them.  If  I  were  able 
to  go  into  the  nursery  myself !  But 
no  one  must  think  of  keeping  things 
back  from  me  because  of  my  being 
an  invalid.  It  would  make  me  worse 
— far  worse — than  anything  else,  to 
know  that  others  were  suffering 
from  my  neglect." 

"Neglect!  You  did  everything  in 
the  world  for  us  as  long  as  you 
could,"  said  Bertha,  in  a  choking 
voice,  whilst  Jenny,  subdued,  also 
leant  tearfully  against  her  mother's 
chair.  "You  worked  and  slaved  for 
us,"  continued  the  elder  girl,  with 
breath  coming  and  going  fast,  "sit- 


32  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

ting  up  at  nights,  and  staying  at 
home  all  the  fine  summer  days,  and 
never  taking  a  holiday,  and  always 
pretending  that  you  were  so  well 
and  strong,  until  you  could  pretend 

no  longer " 

"Hush!  hush!  There  is  your 
father  at  the  gate."  Mrs.  Hatha. 
way,  who  had  been  returning 
tenderly  the  kisses  pressed  upon  her 
cheek,  suddenly  started  upright,  and 
dashed  the  moisture  from  her  eyes. 
"He  must  not  find  us  like  this," 
said  she,  briskly.  "There  is  little 
enough  in  his  own  life  to  cheer  and 
encourage  him;  and  if  he  finds  us 
down  it  will  depress  him  the  more, 
and  unfit  him  for  doing  the  work  he 
has  to  do.  He  often  has  a  headache 
when  he  comes  in.  That's  right, 
Bertha,  go  out  and  meet  him ;  and, 
Jenny,  dear,  try  not  to  bring  for- 
ward unpleasant  subjects;  you  know 
what  I  mean.  You  have  not  quite 
Bertha's  tact,  though  I  know  your 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  33 

dear,  warm  heart  would  not  for  the 
world  give  anyone  pain." 

"But,  mamma,  is  there  any  use  in 
shirking?" 

Mrs.  Hathaway  held  up  a  warning 
finger,  for  the  tones  of  a  shrill  young 
voice  were  somewhat  too  penetra- 
ting, and  the  front  door  had  now 
admitted  the  master  of  the  house- 
hold. 

Then  the  mother  replied  in  a 
firm,  steady  undertone,  "There  is 
no  use  in  'shirking' — but  neither  is 
there  any  use  in  discussions  which 
cannot  further  the  object  in  view. 
When  there  is  anything  to  be  done,  it 
would  be  foolish  and  cowardly,  it 
would  be  wrong,  to  shrink  from 
speaking  out  and  taking  counsel 
together;  but  merely  to  bewail  our 
poverty,  and  indulge  in  useless 
aspirations  and  enumerations  of 
things  we  need  which  we  cannot 
get,  and  must  learn  to  do  without,  is 
but  waste  of  breath,  and  worse.  By 


34  THE   LITTLE    LEGACY 

overshadowing  our  spirits,  and  turn- 
ing our  thoughts  downwards  instead 
of  upwards,  this  kind  of  talk  inter- 
feres with  our  going  through  our 
daily  work  diligently,  and  meeting 
our  troubles  cheerfully.  Now, .  run 
out  and  see  what  they  are  waiting  in 
the  hall  for,"  proceeded  the  invalid, 
in  a  lighter  tone ;  for  Mrs.  Hathaway 
was,  for  the  time  being,  chained  to 
the  little  hard  couch  which  did  duty 
for  a  sofa  in  her  small,  plainly- 
furnished  drawing-room. 

Mrs.  Hathaway  was  one  who 
practised  what  she  preached,  and  in 
the  few  moments  which  elapsed  ere 
figures  were  again  seen  in  the  door- 
way she  had  gathered  strength  from 
no  unfamiliar  Source,  and  composed 
her  features  to  their  usual  gentle  air 
of  serenity  and  welcome. 

She  had  made  up  her  mind  that 
the  day  had  dragged  as  heavily  with 
her  husband  as  with  herself. 

It  had  been  an  especially  trying 


THE   LITTLE    LEGACY  35 

one  from  various  points  of  view  in 
the  humble  household.  We  have 
had  a  glimpse  of  its  culminating 
scene;  and  there  had  been  divers 
lesser  annoyances  to  contend  with, 
some  of  one  sort,  some  of  another; 
while,  through  all,  there  had  grated 
harshly  on  the  sensitive  nerves  of 
the  poor  prisoner,  who  could  never 
escape  out  of  hearing,  the  scrunch- 
ing and  snorting  of  a  loathsome 
steam  roller,  which  ground  endlessly 
up  and  down  over  the  newly-repaired 
suburban  road  in  front. 

Even  her  gentle  soul  had  been 
stung  to  irritation  at  last,  as  we 
know,  and  the  goodly  hotbed  of  coals 
with  which  the  small  apartment 
was  now  glowing  had  nearly  had  their 
flames  quenched  by  her  at  the  outset. 

That  had  passed,  and  she  was  now 
glad  they  were  there ;  glad  that  her 
poor  husband,  coming  in  weary  and 
chilled — too  often  downcast  and 
dispirited  also — but  how  was  this? 


36  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

It  was  certainly  no  downcast, 
dispirited  countenance  which  met 
her  timorous,  faintly-investigating 
smile.  It  was  a  voice  most  unlike 
her  poor  Tom's  usually  subdued 
tones — (poor  fellow!  he  had  almost 
forgotten  how  to  speak  jovially)— 
which  responded  to  her  wifely 
inquiries.  It  was  a  brisk,  alert, 
upright  little  grey-headed  man  who 
stepped  into  the  room,  and  who 
laughingly  threw  off  a  couple  of 
excited  girls  eagerly  clamouring  for 
the  problem  to  be  unravelled,  and 
the  secret,  whose  existence  had  been 
admitted,  to  be  disclosed  in  the 
hearing  of  all. 

"You  shall  hear  it,  sure  enough." 
The  father  and  husband  bent  over 
the  sofa  for  the  never-failing  em- 
brace. "Jenny,  love"  —  in  his 
excitement  the  old  name,  which  had 
of  late  been  transferred  to  the 
younger  proprietor,  rose  to  Mr. 
Hathaway 's  lips;  and  he  stroked 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  37 

fondly  the  head  that  had  once  been 
as  glossy  and  golden  as  the  other 
Jenny's  was  now — "I  have  brought 
home  a  medicine  that  will  go  far  to 
cure  thy  ailment,  poor  wifie,"  and 
the  speaker  sat  down  beside  the 
couch,  and  held  out  his  other  hand 
to  the  two  impatient  ones  standing 
by. 

At  the  same  moment  a  boy  burst 
in,  laden  with  school  books.  Quick 
as  thought,  Bertha  had  turned 
round  with  an  imperative  sign,  and 
opened  her  mouth  to  bid  the  intruder 
retire,  when,  "No,  no,"  cried  her 
father,  beckoning  Charlie  also  within 
the  circle;  "come  in,  my  boy,  come 
in.  I've  got  a  bit  of  good  news  to 
tell,  and  you  shall  hear  it  with  the 
rest."  Then  he  paused  and  looked 
solemnly,  yet  with  radiance  shining 
in  his  eyes,  at  each  in  turn.  "A 
wonderful  thing  has  happened," 
he  said,  "a  most  extraordinary 
and — and  wonderful  thing.  I  have 


38  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

been   left   a  legacy  of   a   thousand 
pounds!" 

"There  seems  no  end  to  what  it 
will  do,"  cried  Bertha,  over  and 
over  again. 

Twenty-four  hours  had  passed, 
and  each  had  been  filled  with  its 
own  measure  of  joyful  communings 
and  glad  anticipations. 

"Mamma,  to  think  how  nearly 
you  had  lost  that!"  continued  the 
affectionate  girl,  touching  the  beau- 
tiful ring,  whose  diamonds  seemed 
to  emit  a  new  effulgence — as  indeed 
they  did,  for  nothing  would  serve 
the  enthusiastic  Jenny  but  to  clean 
and  brighten  them  afresh  in  honour 
of  the  occasion.  "Oh,  mamma,  per- 
haps only  another  day  and  it  would 
have  gone!  The  one  jewel  you 
possess  in  the  world !  And  what  we 
all  know  you  value  besides,  because 
of  so  many  associations.  .  .  . 
Well,  now,  I  have  made  out  the  list 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  39 

of  bills,"  and  with  tenfold  the 
importance  of  a  judge  Bertha  spread 
her  papers,  pencil  in  hand,  "and  we 
will  pay  every  one  of  them  first  of 
all.  They  don't  amount  to  much  in 
the  light  of  a  thousand  pounds," 
continued  she,  joyously,  "although 
they  seemed  so  overwhelming  when 
we  had  only  poor  papa's  salary  to  go 
upon,  and  they  were  to  be  scrimped 
one  by  one  out  of  every  month  as  it 
came  in.  Perhaps  we  may  not 
even  need  to  touch  the  thousand  at 
all  for  the  bills;  as  Mr.  Mapleson 
wrote  that  there  was  a  thousand 
'odd,'  and  that  'odd'  may  quite  likely 
cover  the  bills,  papa  thinks.  And 
then  we  may  use  a  hundred,  may  we 
not,  in  getting  put  to  rights  alto- 
gether? The  house  really  wants  it 

dreadfully ' ' 

"Indeed,  it  does."  But  Mrs. 
Hathaway's  acquiescence  was  rather 
one  of  pleased  anticipation  than  of 
regret.  "It  ought  to  have  been 


40  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

painted  from  top  to  bottom  last 
year.  And  had  it  not  been  our  own 
we  should  have  been  forced  to  do  it ; 
no  landlord  would  have  let  us  off. 
We  thought  that  was  the  one  good 
thing  about  our  having  bought  this 
poor  little  house  and  mortgaged  it  so 
heavily.  We  shall  pay  off  the  mort- 
gage now,"  and  she  looked  round 
with  the  air  of  a  proud  proprietor. 
"You  must  remember,  children,  that 
we  shall  not  receive  Mr.  Grenoble's 
legacy  at  once;  and  though  your 
father  will  have  no  difficulty  in  get- 
ting an  advance  on  the  security  of 
Mr.  Mapleson's  letter,  it  will  only 
be  a  few  hundreds.  Still,  a  few 
hundreds,  and  the  rest  to  follow 
shortly!" — and  her  eyes  shone. 

"I  was  thinking  we  really  ought 
to  have  a  little  household  linen," 
meditated  Bertha  aloud.  "The 
towels  are  so  very  thin,  and  there 
are  hardly  enough  to  go  round ' ' 

"And    the    water-cans    are    in    a 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  41 

deplorable  state,"  assented  her 
mother. 

"And,  oh,  mamma,  can't  we  have 
the  piano  tuned?"  It  was  Jenny's 
turn  next.  "The  tuner  has  not  been 
here  since  April." 

"You  may  send  for  him  at  once;" 
Mrs.  Hathaway  nodded  cheerfully. 
"And  poor  Charlie's  bed,  I  will  have 
that  mended.  The  poor  boy  never 
complains,  but  it  must  have  been 
very  uncomfortable.  And  the  lock 
of  his  door  is  broken — Oh,  there  is 
your  father's  voice  outside!"  All 
paused  to  listen.  "He  has  brought 
some  one  home  with  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Hathaway,  with  a  fresh  smile.  "He 
used  often  to  bring  a  friend  home  in 
this  easy  way  when  we  were  first 
married ;  but  it  is  so  long  since  we 
have  had  anything  to  offer.  That's 
right,  Bertha,  make  a  blaze,"  and 
she  drew  herself  up  on  the  couch, 
and  arranged  the  coverlet  over  her 
feet  to  prepare  for  company. 


42  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

She  was  hardly  prepared,  however, 
for  the  visitor  who  was  ushered  in. 
Although  she  knew  Mr.  Mapleson, 
she  had  not  seen  him  hitherto  within 
the  walls  of  her  own  modest  dwell- 
ing. Here  also  was  a  new  departure. 

"Mr.  Mapleson  was  good  enough 
to  say  he  would  come  down  with  me 
and  call  upon  you  this  evening,  my 
dear."  It  was  natural  that  the 
speaker's  accents  should  have  in 
them  a  certain  formality  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger,  but  it  did  not 
escape  the  wife's  ear  that  there  was 
also  a  nervous  intonation  and  some- 
thing of  the  well-known  shadow  on 
her  husband's  brow.  He  now  pro- 
ceeded. 

"Mr.  Mapleson  wished  to  consult 
with  us  both  on  a  little  matter  of 
business " 

"An  investment  for  the  legacy  left 
you  by  the  terms  of  Mr.  Grenoble's 
will;"  the  lawyer  took  up  the 
thread,  and  seated  himself  with  a 


THE   LITTLE   LEGACY  43 

courteous  inclination  towards  the 
young-  lady  who  had  hastened  to 
place  a  chair. 

"An  investment?"  Mrs.  Hatha- 
way looked  from  one  to  the  other  with 
feminine  appeal  for  enlightenment. 

"My  wife  does  not  understand 
much  about  such  things ;  neither,  to 
tell  the  truth,  do  I."  Mr.  Hathaway 
forced  a  little  laugh,  which  had  not 
a  genuine  ring.  "We  did  not  quite 
understand,  did  we,  my  dear?  that 
this  money  which  our  cousin  has 
been  kind  enough  to  leave  us  has  to 
be  invested — will  remain  in  Mr. 
Mapleson's  charge,  to  be  invested 
for  us — so  we  shall  get  the  interest 
instead  of  the  capital.  Of  course, 
it's  all  right;  no  doubt  it  is  better 
so;  it  will  last  longer,  and " 

"But  perhaps  it  is  a  little  disap- 
pointment?" The  visitor  looked 
keenly  round.  "I  dare  say  the 
ladies  have  already  spent  in  imagina- 
tion  ' ' 


44  THE   LITTLE    LEGACY 

"That's  it;  just  so."  The  girls' 
father  made  a  hasty  movement,  as 
though  to  intervene  between  their 
faces  and  the  guest.  "I  was  a  little 
over-hasty  in  telling  them ;  and  they 
had  been  reckoning  up,  as  young 
people  will — but,  of  course,  we 
understand,"  and  the  poor  little  man 
made  a  dignified  movement  and 
straightened  himself  upon  the 
hearthrug. 

' '  Yes,  we  understand. ' '  The  voice 
from  the  sofa  was  low  and  soft,  but 
no  tremor  was  audible.  ("A  woman 
who  would  back  up  her  husband  in 
anything,"  decided  Mr.  Mapleson 
within  himself.)  "We  are  greatly 
obliged  to  you  for  taking  this 
trouble,"  continued  the  speaker, 
steadily,  "and  shall  be  very  glad  of 
any  help  you  can  give  us. ' ' 

Mr.  Mapleson  produced  some 
papers  from  his  pocket.  As  he  did 
so  he  heard  a  husky  whisper  behind 
his  chair. 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  45 

"Are  we  not  to  get  any  of  it  now, 
Bertha?"  And  looking  up  at  the 
same  moment  the  quick-witted  law- 
yer perceived  a  spasm  upon  the 
father's  face,  and  noted  that  the 
mother  had  averted  hers. 

When  they  spoke,  however,  no  one 
would  have  guessed  the  effort  which 
shaped  the  syllables  of  calm  pro- 
priety which  fell  from  the  elder's 
lips.  The  papers  were  passed  from 
one  to  the  other.  Mr.  Mapleson's 
proposals  were  hearkened  to  with 
deference;  his  advice  was  taken, 
and  himself  empowered  to  act  in  all 
respects  according  to  his  own  judg- 
ment. 

Still  he  did  not  go;  he  seemed 
unwilling  to  go.  He  entered  into  a 
discussion  about  the  merits,  or 
demerits,  of  the  neighbourhood;  his 
eye  wandered  round  and  round  the 
little  room,  taking  in — or  at  least  so 
poor  Bertha  fancied — the  shabby, 
darned  curtains  and  broken  window- 


46  THE    LITTLE   LEGACY 

cord;  and  though  there  was  more 
than  one  prolonged  pause,  it  was  not 
until  all  had  begun  to  feel  the  strain 
almost  beyond  their  powers  to  bear, 
that  he  at  length  rose. 

"You  won't  stay  to  dine  with 
us?"  said  Mr.  Hathaway,  faintly. 
He  knew  there  would  be  a  good 
dinner — the  dinner  which  had  been 
ordered  to  celebrate  the  family 
festival — and  hospitality  prompted 
the  invitation,  even  while  a  sick 
sinking  at  the  heart  almost  forbade 
its  utterance. 

All  the  glorious  news  of  yesterday 
seemed  to  have  turned  to  a  mirage. 
It  was  true  that  forty  pounds  a  year, 
which  Mr.  Mapleson  considered 
would  be  the  probable  interest  of  the 
sum  bequeathed,  meant  a  pleasing 
addition  to  his  annual  income.  But 
compared  with  a  thousand  pounds 
down! 

The  "odd,"  too,  had  faded  out  of 
sight.  It  had  only  amounted  to  a 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  47 

trifle,  and  had  been  used  for  ex- 
penses. He  was  longing  to  be  rid  of 
another  presence,  yet  shrank  from 
the  moment  when  he  and  his  should 
be  again  alone.  How  happily  had 
he  gone  forth  that  morning!  How 
smoothly  had  the  wheels  of  life 
rolled  throughout  the  day!  And 
how  confidently  had  he  awaited  the 
glad  bustle  of  his  return ! 

It  had  been  agreed  that  a  family 
conclave  was  to  be  held,  and  pros 
and  cons  discussed.  He  could 
scarcely  bear  to  mark  the  quietude 
of  the  little  chamber  now. 

"Just  step  with  me  a  moment  out- 
side, will  you?"  said  Mr.  Mapleson. 

"But,  my  dear  sir,  I — I,  really — I 
am  so  bewildered !  This  munificence 
— this  extraordinary,  unparalleled 
good  fortune!"  Poor  Tom  Hatha- 
way shook  all  over,  and  a  narrow 
slip  of  paper  in  his  hand  wriggled  in 
the  lamplight.  "It  is  incredible — " 


48  THE    LITTLE   LEGACY 

4 '  Not  at  all  incredible. ' '  A  hearty 
hand  patted  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"You  think  me  a  cold-blooded  indi- 
vidual, Hathaway;  and  I  dare  say 
wouldn't  give  me  credit  for — but 
even  a  selfish  old  bachelor  may 
sometimes  enjoy  giving  a  pleasant 
surprise.  I  didn't  come  all  this  way 
out  to  shed  gloom  and  disappoint- 
ment in  a  place  that,  to  tell  the 
truth,  looks  dismal  enough  without 
the  need  of  anything  additional," 
with  an  involuntary  glance  of  dis- 
paragement at  the  sodden  road  and 
monotonous  frontage. 

("God  bless  my  soul!  How  can 
people  live  in  such  a  locality?"  mut- 
tered Mapleson  to  himself. ) 

Then  he  continued  his  cheerful 
strain  aloud,  "Let  me  explain.  I 
meant  to  have  my  little  joke — to 
tease  your  wife  and  daughters  for  a 
few  minutes',  and  then  to  produce 
this  cheque  and  make  them  jump. 
But  somehow  I  couldn't  do  it. 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  49 

There  was  that  in  your  wife's  face — 
and  those  poor  girls!  Well,  well, 
forgive  my  seeing  below  the  surface, 
Hathaway;  we  lawyers  can't  help 
prying,  you  know;  and  even  your 
mask  of  cheerful  acquiescence  didn't 
take  me  in.  It  was  a  disappoint- 
ment, eh?  I  had  guessed  as  much, 
but  I  didn't  know  how  much  until — 
never  mind  when.  It  made  me  feel 
queer,  I  can  tell  you.  Now,  my 
good  sir,  do  you  understand  that 
this,"  tapping  the  cheque,  "is  your 
own  earned  money — (at  least  if  it 
can  be  called  'earned,'  "  sot  to  voce). 
"Anyhow,  it's  made  honestly, — and 
I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it  beyond 
the  fact  that  I  was  the  medium  of 
making  it  for  you.  Are  you  listen- 
ing? I  don't  suppose  you  are,"  jog- 
ging his  dumb  companion  playfully 
by  the  elbow.  "But  still,  as  you 
have  got  to  tell  others,  you  may  as 
well  let  me  tell  you  once  again.  On 
the  day  of  Mr.  Grenoble's  death, 


50  THE    LITTLE    LEGACY 

when  I  knew  you  would  come  in  for 
this  small  legacy — small  as  compared 
with  what  he  left  his  other  relation, 
that  grumbling  curmudgeon  Charles 
— the  Stock  Exchange  was  'hum- 
ming' with  African  shares.  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  have  a  fling  on  your 
account ;  and  if  it  turned  up  trumps, 
well  and  good ;  if  not,  I  guaranteed 
in  my  own  mind  to  make  good  the 
loss.  I  had  just  done  uncommonly 
well  for  myself  in  the  same  line, 
and  could  afford  it.  That  was  a 
week  ago,  and  the  result  of  the  week 
is  that  your  thousand  has  made  five ! 
I  retain  the  original  sum,  to  be 
invested  according  to  Mr.  Grenoble's 
wishes — (which  I  explained  just  now 
to  yourself  and  Mrs.  Hathaway) — 
and  for  the  other  four  thousand  you 
hold  the  cheque  in  your  hands.  It 
is  yours  absolutely — and  you  can 
make  ducks  and  drakes  with  it  as 
soon  as  you  like.  Eh?  Oh,  never 
mind.  No  thanks.  God  bless  you, 


THE    LITTLE    LEGACY  51 

my  dear  fellow;  God  bless  you," 
and  with  a  parting  grip  of  the  hand 
the  speaker  vanished  in  the  darkness. 
Nor  did  the  worthy  Mapleson's 
kindness  end  here.  He  had  received 
an  impression  from  the  visit  never 
to  be  effaced.  He  took  an  ever- 
increasing  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
the  family  he  had  befriended.  In 
the  course  of  time  the  schoolboy 
Charlie  was  received  into  his  office ; 
and  one  fine  day  when  his  nephew 
and  heir,  Herbert  Mapleson,  'came 
and  stood  before  him,  bristling  with 
resolution  and  defiance,  to  announce 
that  he  had  offered  his  hand  and 
heart  to  Bertha  Hathaway,  and  that 
neither  his  people  nor  hers  should 
put  a  spoke  in  his  wheel,  for  marry 
her  he  would,  &c.,  &c.,  with  all  the 
usual  variations — all  the  formidable 
uncle  did  was  to  hear  him  to  the 
end,  and  then  say,  with  a  smile 
which  he  could  not  for  the  life  of 
him  make  sarcastic,  "Bless  my  soul! 


52  THE   LITTLE    LEGACY 

young  man,  do  you  think  because 
people  wear  spectacles  that  they 
can't  see  an  inch  beyond  their 
noses?  There;  get  me  my  hat;  and 
we  will  go  off  together  to  call  upon 
my  future  niece.  I  am  not  such  a 
fool,  Herbert  Mapleson,  but  I  can 
still  admire  a  pretty  girl,  and  a  good 
girl,  when  I  see  one.  I  shall  have 
to  make  another  fling  one  of  these 
days  on  Tom's  account,"  he  cogi- 
tated. "It  all  came  of  that  queer 
little  legacy  of  his. ' ' 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 


A   Clerical   Exterior 


"As  for  society,  my  dear  fellow, 
ahem?"  said  the  vicar,  significantly. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  youthful,  seri- 
ous figure  before  him,  taking  in  its 
spare  outlines,  the  slight  bend  of  the 
neck  and  the  length  —  the  extreme 
length  —  of  the  new  black  coat. 
"Ahem!"  he  repeated.  But  in- 
wardly he  made  the  swift  and  cheer- 
ful reflection:  "Quite  presentable, 
but  absolutely  indifferent.  Full  of 
zeal  and  visions.  An  embryo  Loyola 
or  Damien,  in  short!"  with  a  sar- 
castic quirk  of  the  lip.  "I  know  the 
cut.  At  the  present  moment  it  suits 
me  down  to  the  ground." 

"I  am  not  in  the  least  solicitous 
about  society,"  said  the  new  curate, 
with  gentle  decision. 

55 


56         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

"No;  I  thought  not.  Society  is — 
is  all  very  well  in  its  way ;  but  when 
a  man  is  beginning  his  life-work" — 
the  speaker  shot  a  glance  and  marked 
that  it  told — "society  is  more  or  less 
a  hindrance.  Later  on  it  is  a  differ- 
ent matter.  Your  object  now  is  to 
learn  all  you  can,  and  do  all  you  can ; 
and  this  great  teeming  parish  of 
mine,  east  of  the  East  of  London, 
will  prove,  I  trust,  an  excellent  mas- 
ter in  the  lesson.  There  is  not" — he 
paused,  then  corrected  himself — 
"there  is  hardly  more  than  one  house 
in  it  to  be  visited  on  equal  terms." 

The  curate  did  not  even  ask  whose 
house  it  was. 

A  few  days  later,  however,  Mr. 
Fairclough  himself  suggested:  "I 
must  take  you  to  call  on  Lady  Mar- 
garet Whitmore,  Bertram.  Lady 
Margaret  will  expect  it.  She  is  not 
only  my  principal  parishioner,  but 
the  largest  landowner  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. An  excellent  woman — 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        57 

liberal,  benevolent.  We  are  lucky 
in  having  such  a  person  in  this  for- 
saken— I  mean  this  queer,  out-of- 
the-way  part  of  the  world.  Every 
one  else  who  has  ever  held  property 
hereabouts  has  fled  the  scene;  sold 
it  for  building  purposes,  and  made 
off  to  happier  hunting-grounds.  The 
East  End  of  London  is  not  what  you 
can  call  an  agreeable  vicinity,  and 
the  East  End  is  approaching  us 
Essex  folk  at  a  gallop.  But  Lady 
Margaret  has  struck  her  roots  deep, 
like  one  of  her  own  elms — too  deep 
ever  to  be  torn  up ;  though  one  day 
doubtless  she  will  snap  at  the  stem, 
as  they  occasionally  do.  Long  may 
that  day  be  off!  And  meantime  I 
must  take  you  with  me  to  Garfords, 
and  present  you  in  due  form." 

"When  shall  we  go,  sir?"  inquired 
the  young  man,  glancing  at  a  note- 
book in  his  hand.  "I  had  better 
make  a  note  of  it " 

"Pooh!    Note!    Come  along  now, " 


58         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

cried  the  vicar,  with  genial  alacrity. 
"  'Tis  a  nice  day  for  a  walk,  and 
the  walk  to  Garfords  is  the  only 
decent  one  in  the  place. ' ' 

"I  am  afraid  this  afternoon  is  full 
already.  I  had  arranged  to  call  at 
the  schools ' ' 

"My  dear  boy,  the  schools  can 
wait." 

"And  to  take  these  papers  for  the 
magazine ' ' 

"Put  them  in  your  pocket,  and  if 
we  have  time  we  can  hand  them  in 
as  we  return. ' ' 

"You  wished  me  to  see  about  the 
special  service " 

"Special  service  be "  Mr. 

Fairclough  choked  the  word 
"hanged"  in  his  throat.  He  was 
too  apt  to  let  fall  unclerical  expres- 
sions. Aloud,  he  merely  remarked: 
"My  dear  Bertram,  you  are  quite 
right,  perfectly  right,  to  map  out 
your  time  and  economize  it.  There 
is  nothing  like  method,  as  I  always 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        59 

tell  my  curates;  but  all  the  same, 
there  come  occasions  when  method 
must  go  to  the  wall.  It  does  not  do 
to  be  a  slave  to  red  tape,"  jogging 
his  young  disciple's  arm  playfully. 
"I  had  got  my  day  laid  out  as  well 
as  you,  but  the  sun  shines,  the  birds 
sing,  and  the  upshot  is — away  with 
that  note-book ! ' '  tapping  it  with  his 
finger.  "There  is  nothing  in  it  that 
will  not  keep  till  to-morrow  or  next 
day;  and  away  we  go  across  the 
fields  to  the  one  house  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood where  there  is  the  prospect 
of  an  hour's  real  enjoyment  in  the 
performance  of  an  actual  and  posi- 
tive duty  visitation." 

He  seized  his  large,  important, 
glossy  hat  with  one  hand  and  his 
silver-headed  cane  with  the  other. 
Bertram  put  on  a  smooth  black  wide- 
awake, and  was  extracting  his  um- 
brella from  the  stand  when  Mr. 
Fairclough,  with  half-humorous  irri- 
tation, pushed  it  back. 


60        A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

"No,  no;  can't  stand  that.  An 
umbrella  when  there  is  not  a  cloud 
in  the  sky!  In  the  month  of  June, 
too!  Here,"  opening  a  side  door, 
(for  the  two  were  standing  in  the 
inner  hall  of  the  vicarage,  a  spacious, 
well-planned  building,  as  many  of  its 
kind  are  in  that  region),  "here,  take 
your  choice.  Here  are  sticks  of 
every  sort :  sticks  long,  sticks  short ; 
sticks  lean,  sticks  stout ;  sticks  rough, 
sticks  smooth!  Some  of  them 
haven't  been  used  for  twenty  years 
or  more,  but  I  go  on  collecting  all 
the  same.  Aye,  that  one  will  suit 
you,  I  dare  say;  and  you  handle  it 
as  though  to  the  manner  born. 
Come,  Bertram,  I  see  you  know  a 
good  stick.  Don't  tell  me  that  you 
prefer  to  trudge  along  a  country 
road  with  that  infernal  machine,  a 
parson's  umbrella." 

"Xo,  sir!  I — I  never  walked 
with  an  umbrella  in  my  life  till  I 
took  orders.  But  I  thought 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        6l 

the  young  man  smiled  suggest- 
ively. 

"Aye,  I  know  well  enough  what 
you  thought;"  Mr.  Fairclough's  eyes 
twinkled.  "You  are  not  the  first. 
And,  of  course,  you  are  quite  right 
in' a  way,  Bertram;  the  good  folks 
down  here  have  a  great  eye  for  the 
correct  clerical  exterior,  and  Lady 
Margaret  and  her  daughters  espe- 
cially expect  the  clergy  to  be  turned 
out  de  riguciir.  But  an  umbrella, 
you  know,  an  umbrella!  The  fact 
is,  an  umbrella  is  my  bete  noire, 
Bertram ;  and  to  tell  the  honest 
truth,  if  I  dared  I'd  pitch  both  it  and 
that  black  wide-awake  of  yours  to  the 
back  of  beyond,  and  see  my  curates 
go  about  clothed  like  other  gentle- 
men." 

"But,  sir " 

"Oh,  I  know  it  can't  be  done,  and, 
after  all,  it's  a  trifle,  a  mere  trifle. 
Now,  then,  this  way."  And  cutting 
short  the  discussion  wherein  he 


62         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

feared  he  had  been  betrayed  too  far, 
the  older  pedestrian  hastily  opened  a 
side  gate,  and  after  the  two  had 
passed  through,  and  he  had  again 
secured  its  fastenings,  was  ready 
with  a  fresh  topic  of  conversation. 
To  himself  he  said,  "I  must  take 
care  not  to  shock  this  guileless 
youth.  Suppose  he  does  pin  his 
faith  on  a  coat  or  a  collar,  and  sup- 
pose I  have  outlived  that  illusion,  he 
would  be  none  the  better  suited  to 
this  place  and  the  work  before  him 
for  adopting  my  views  and  discard- 
ing his  own.  As  long  as  he  does  his 
part,  and  fights  the  world,  the  flesh, 
and  the  devil  manfully,  what  odds 
if  he  chooses  to  look  it  in  his  own 
way?  Lady  Margaret,  at  any  rate, 
will  think  none  the  worse  of  him." 
And  he  chatted  sociably  and  pleas- 
antly as  they  wended  their  way 
along. 

"And  so  I  needn't  have  got  this 
beast  of  a  hat  after  all,"  said  Ber- 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        63 

tram  to  himself.  "Confound  it,  and 
the  coat  too !  If  I  had  only  known ! ' ' 

He  had  left  Oxford  one  year  be- 
fore, had  taken  a  good  degree,  and 
prepared  with  zest  for  the  life  of  a 
hardworking  parish  clergyman.  Of 
his  own  free  will  he  had  made  this 
choice ;  had  felt  called  to  it ;  discov- 
ered himself  suited  to  it;  and  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  desired  noth- 
ing better  than  to  concentrate  his 
energies  and  exercise  his  best 
powers  in  the  sacred  profession.  But 
he  was  not  quite  the  meek  visionary 
nor  the  rapt  enthusiast  imagined 
by  that  very  muscular  Christian, 
the  Rev.  Augustus  Fairclough. 

"Mary,  Mary,  how  exciting!  Two 
men  coming  up  the  lane!"  exclaimed 
the  younger  Miss  Whitmore  to  her 
sister,  as  the  two  sat  lazily  upon  the 
lawn  at  Garfords,  with  a  litter  of 
books  and  magazines  around  them. 
"Two  men,  actually!  Who  can  they 
be?  Who " 


64         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

Mary  turned  her  head  slowly, 
almost  contemptuously,  round.  "It 
never  is  anybody,  so  what  is  the  use 
of  saying  'Who?'  There  is  only 
Mr.  Fairclough  who  it  can  be." 

"Mr.  Fairclough  it  is.  And  the 
new  curate,  as  I'm  a — what  a  pity 
mamma  is  out!  She  is  the  curate- 
lover  in  this  house.  We  must  see 
them  though,  and  do  the  civil. 
After  all,  Mr.  Fairclough  would 
never  bring  any  one  here  who  was 
not  passable,  barely  passable,  even 
to  please  mamma.  He  knows  what 
is  due  to  us — to  you  and  me — and 
that  we  can't  stand  grabs,  whatever 
mamma  can.  I  am  rather  glad  we 
were  at  home  now.  We  shall  see  if 
this  new  importation  is  likely  to  be 
any  sort  of  good  to  us.  If  only  he 
should  be  up  to  the  mark  for  a  din- 
ner or  a  dance " 

"Nonsense!"  Mary  Whitmore 
made  a  restive  movement.  She  was 
out-of -sorts  that  day;  vexed  be- 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        65 

cause  of  a  certain  disappointment, 
and  disinclined  to  put  up  with  inter- 
ruptions of  her  brooding  mood. 
"As  if  a  curate  could  be  any  good  in 
that  way!"  she  said,  petulantly. 
"And  you  know  what  they  are,  as  a 
rule.  I  don't  know  how  they  man- 
age it,  but  directly  they  become 
rectors  and  vicars  they  are  nice 
enough,  and  pleasant  enough — but 
curates!"  and  her  nose  went  up  in 
the  air. 

"Still,  he  might  do  for  a  dinner," 
persisted  the  younger,  "and  I  don't 
believe  Mr.  Fairclough  would  bring 
him  to  call  if  he  would  not  do  for  a 
dinner.  You  know  he  has  two 
other  inferior  creatures  he  never 
thinks  of  bringing." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know;  they  are  all 
alike,"  said  Mary,  indifferently. 

None  of  the  indifference,  however, 
was  apparent  when  Miss  Whitmore 
arose  to  greet  her  visitors.  No  one 
could  ever  accuse  Lady  Margaret's 


66        A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

daughters  of  ill-breeding;  and  cer- 
tainly neither  of  the  newcomers  had 
any  reason  to  suppose  that  they  were 
grudged  their  share  of  the  rustling 
shade,  nor  of  the  luxurious  encamp- 
ment on  the  velvet  turf,  which 
seemed  created  to  invite  repose. 

"I  have  been  telling  Mr.  Bertram 
that  this  is  the  one  place  in  the 
neighbourhood  where  you  may 
imagine  yourself  a  thousand  miles 
from  London,"  began  the  vicar,  lay- 
ing down  his  stick,  and  spreading 
himself  out  comfortably.  "The 
peace  and  stillness  of  Garfords  is  the 
one  soothing  oasis  in  my  great  be- 
wildering desert  of  a  parish.  I  come 
here  when  I  want  to  forget  where  I 
live.  Ah,  how  sweet  those  azaleas 
smell!"  catching  a  whiff  from  a 
large  clump  near.  "And  the  lilac 
and  may  too,"  sniffing  about. 
"Delicious,  the  mingling  of  fra- 
grance! And  that  white  broom 
sweeping  the  water!"  his  eye  going 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        67 

down  to  a  small  lake  embedded  in 
shrubs.  "This  is  really  Paradise," 
concluded  the  speaker,  taking  off  his 
hat,  and  burrowing  down  yet  deeper 
in  the  basket-chair.  "Bertram,  I 
told  you  this  was  the  day  for  the 
Garfords,  did  I  not?  Young  ladies, 
I  trust  you  will  excuse  us  for  break- 
ing in  upon  the  harmony  of  such  an 
afternoon,  but  I  think  you  will  agree 
with  me  that  when  a  man  is  to  see 
Garfords  for  the  first  time,  he  ought 
to  see  it  on  a  day  like  this?  And 
now,"  more  briskly,  "now,  pray, 
what  is  the  news  of  the  outer  world? 
What  have  you  been  hearing?  What 
are  you  reading?"  picking  up  with 
the  ease  of  friendship  the  nearest 
volume,  and  plunging  instantly  into 
a  discussion  of  its  merits. 

The  theme  was  interesting,  and 
the  young  lady  animated  and  intel- 
ligent. It  only  needed  the  murmur 
of  other  voices,  and  the  perception 
that  he  was  not  required  to  stimu- 


63         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

late  a  lagging  dialogue  on  his  other 
hand,  to  set  the  good-natured  elderly 
gentleman  free  to  pursue  it;  and  he 
was  presently  so  entirely  absorbed 
as  to  forget  any  responsibility 
hitherto  felt,  connected  with  the 
visit. 

All  at  once,  however,  Mr.  Fair- 
clough  was  startled.  A  clear,  nat- 
ural, hearty  laugh  rang  out  close  to 
his  ear.  He  broke  off  short  in  the 
very  middle  of  a  sentence,  to  turn  a 
pair  of  round,  surprised  eyes  upon 
Bertram. 

Bertram  was  sitting  upon  the  edge 
of  his  seat  twirling  his  cane  between 
his  fingers,  and  from  his  parted  lips 
had  emanated  a  sound  never  heard 
before  by  his  clerical  superior. 

There  was  nothing  disagreeable 
in  the  laugh ;  it  could  not  have  been 
termed  either  impertinent  or  famil- 
iar; but  it  was  undeniably  sponta- 
neous, frank,  and  mirthful;  and 
somehow — though  for  the  life  of  him 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        69 

Mr.  Fairclough  could  not  have  said 
how — it  took  him  aback.  A  gentle, 
hesitating  smile  was  the  outside  he 
had  ever  won  from  this  pale-faced 
student;  and  though  he  had  been  at 
times  a  trifle  impatient  of  such 
pertinacious  solemnity,  he  had  been 
impressed  by  it,  and  inclined  to  con- 
sider its  effect  upon  his  parishioners 
as  distinctly  advantageous. 

What  then  was  the  meaning  of  this 
new  departure?  He  literally  stared, 
and  let  it  be  felt  that  he  was  staring. 

Margaret  Whitmore,  who  had  been 
the  cause  of  the  laugh,  and  whose 
own  merry  eyes  were  dancing, 
caught  her  breath  and  almost,  if 
not  actually,  apologised.  Bertram's 
cane  fell  from  his  hands,  and  when 
he  had  recovered  it,  there  was  a 
suffusion  of  colour  on  his  cheek 
which  had  certainly  not  been  there 
before. 

"I  have  been  telling  Mr.  Bertram 
a  story  of  one  of  our  old  farm 


70        A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

labourers,"  and  the  young  lady,  with 
somewhat  hurried  intonation,  re- 
peated the  story, — but  neither  she 
nor  her  auditors  felt  moved  to  more 
than  a  mild  appreciation  of  its 
flavour  on  this  second  narration. 

4 'Ha!  ha!  ha!  Very  good!"  Mr. 
Fairclough  did  indeed  emit  a  faint, 
commendatory  chuckle,  and  proceed 
to  cap  the  anecdote  on  the  instant, 
— but,  though  he  was  an  excellent 
raconteur,  and  though  his  mot  was 
superior  to  Miss  Margaret's,  he  felt 
that  he  had  not  obliterated  the 
memory  of  his  own  lapse,  nor  re- 
stored the  comfortable  unanimity 
which  had  preceded  it. 

If  he  had  only  had  the  sense  to  sit 
still  and  keep  his  ears  open !  As  it 
was,  he  was  perforce  obliged  to  go 
on  talking  for  the  whole  party,  since 
the  abashed  Bertram  could  scarce 
lift  up  his  head  again,  while  Mar- 
garet Whitmore  looked  as  if  she  too 
had  met  with  a  rebuke.  Neither 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        71 

recovered  entirely  throughout  the 
remainder  of  the  call.  .  .  . 

"Yes,  you  were;  you  were  much 
too  free.  Mr.  Fairclough  thought 
so,  and  so  did  I,"  exclaimed  Mary, 
afterwards.  "Talking  and  laughing 
like  that  with  a  curate !  Of  course, 
the  poor  man  had  to  laugh  back — he 
could  not  help  it — and  then  you  saw 
the  look  he  got." 

"Gracious  me!  I  saw  the  look, 
and  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes. 
I  thought  it  downright  cruel;  while 
as  for  the  poor  youth,  he  got  as  red 
as  a  rose.  It  was  the  greatest  fun!" 

"Fun?  Nonsense!  Mamma  would 
have  been  very  angry.  You  know 
how  often  she  has  told  you  not  to  be 
familiar  all  at  once  with  strangers. 
The  only  thing  that  redeemed  it 
was  Mr.  Fairclough 's  annoyance, 
and  his  look  of  blank  amazement." 

"And  the  dead  stop  he  made," 
cried  Margaret,  with  intense  appre- 
ciation. "The  sort  of  'Good  heav- 


72         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

ens !  What-is-going-to-happen-next?' 
expression  on  his  face.  Oh,  it  was 
glorious!"  and  she  threw  herself 
back  in  her  chair,  twisting  her  hand- 
kerchief into  a  ball,  tossing  it  into 
the  air,  and  catching  it  again.  "I 
must  prepare  a  few  more  such 
shocks  for  our  venerable  vicar," 
cried  she.  "I  must  lay  in  a  store. 
After  all,  why  shouldn't  a  poor 
young  parson  see  a  joke  as  well  as 
other  people?  At  first  you  may 
imagine  how  furious  I  was  when  I 
saw  you  had  usiirped  dear  old  Mr. 
Fairclough,  who  is  always  worth 
talking  to,  and  left  me  to  struggle 
with  the  other.  I,  who  had  never 
been  to  a  'Mothers'  meeting'  or  a 
'Work  party'  in  my  life!  I  could 
just  manage  to  be  interested  in 
the  'Lending  Library,'  because  I 
thought  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
clear  the  shelves  of  all  our  old  maga- 
zines and  useless  books,  now  that  we 
have  got  such  a  lot  of  new  ones.  We 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR         73 

want  some  more  room,  and  there  is  a 
perfect  accumulation.  I  told  the 
youth  I  should  look  them  out  and 
send  them  down.  Unhappily,  there 
are  no  Lenten  services  nor  anything 
of  that  sort  to  inquire  about  just 
now,  and  I  could  not  venture  into  the 
realms  of  music  and  the  choir  boys. 
I  had  a  flying  shot  at  the  Parish 
Magazine,  but  that  soon  dropped,  so 
I  made  the  most  of  the  book-lending. 
The  youth  seemed  pensively  grate- 
ful, and  we  worried  out  the  subject. 
You  must  have  heard  how  solemnly 
we  conversed.  Then  I  tried  him — 
feeling  my  way — on  croquet  and 
lawn  tennis.  If  you  will  believe 
me,  a  spasm  of  disgust  shot  across 
his  face  at  the  words !  At  this  point 
I  felt  reckless;  I  let  myself  loose  to 
talk  as  I  chose,  and  would  no  longer 
attempt  to  adapt  my  conversation  to 
my  company,  as  mamma  and  you 
think  one  ought  to  do.  I  just  gave 
it  him!  I  told  him  all  we  were 


74         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

doing  and  all  we  were  going  to  do. 
I  didn't  care  whether  he  liked  it  or 
not.  Probably  he  thinks  me  an 
appallingly  worldly  and  frivolous 
young  lady.  I  ran  on  exactly  as  if 
he  had  been  any  other  young  man, 
and  he  bent  his  gentle  head  and  let 
the  torrent  flow  over  it.  But  when 
I  got  to  old  Trueman's  idea  of  the 
Jubilee  procession,  it  found  the  spot, 
like  Homocea.  Some  time  or  other, 
in  the  Dark  Ages,  this  spiritual 
being  must  have  known  what  it  was 
to  laugh,  and  ever  since  there  has 
been — there  must  have  been — a 
pent-up  laugh  somewhere.  Mary, 
do  you  know,  I  am  rather  proud  of 
myself  for  having  pricked  that  hid- 
den spot. ' ' 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talk- 
ing about,"  said  Mary,  fretfully. 
"Here  is  mamma  at  last.  Perhaps 

' '  She  rose  from  her  chair  and 

stood  for  a  moment  ruminating. 

"Perhaps  what?" 


A    CLERICAL     EXTERIOR         75 

"All  that  we  need  to  say  to 
mamma  is  that  Mr.  Fairclough 
brought  the  new  curate  to  call,  and 
that  he  seems  gentleman-like." 
Again  she  hesitated.  "A  man  of 
that  sort  would  be  so  very  useful," 
she  murmured,  in  conclusion. 

"And  mamma  likes  them  cadav- 
erous," cried  Margaret,  gaily. 
"Mamma!"  springing  forward  and 
getting  her  voice  in  first,  as  the 
mother's  pet  had  a  trick  of  doing. 
"Mamma,  you're  in  luck.  Mr. 
Fairclough  has  got  a  curate  after 
your  own  heart.  I  don't  know  if  he 
parts  his  hair  down  the  middle,  be- 
cause he  kept  on  his  abomination  of 
a  hat  all  the  time  he  was  here, 
though  I  am  sure  he  was  longing  to 
take  it  off,  as  Mr.  Fairclough  did 
his.  But  in  every  other  respect 
Mary  and  I  can  testify  that  he  meets 
your  views,  and  we  foresee  that  ycu 
will  have  him  here  morning,  noon, 
and  night.  He  is  'just  sweet,'  as 


76         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

they  say  in  America.  Now,  Mary, 
tell  the  truth, .is  not  this  Mr.  Ber- 
tram 'just  sweet'?" 

Lady  Margaret  looked  from  one 
daughter  to  another. 

"I  passed  the  gentlemen  at  the 
lodge;  I  am  sorry  to  have  missed 
them." 

"Of  course  you  are,"  cried  the 
irrepressible  younger,  "but  you  will 
be  glad  to  hear  that  we  did  your  part 
handsomely — gave  them  tea,  cooled 
them  down,  lent  the  young  man  a 
book,  and  stuck  a  flower  in  the  old 
one's  button-hole." 

"Silly  child!"  But  even  Lady 
Margaret  smiled  a  fond  rebuke. 
There  were  few  people  who  could 
resist  winsome  Margaret — least  of  all 
Margaret's  mother.  She  had,  how- 
ever, a  word  apart  with  her  elder 
daughter  presently. 

"This  Mr.  Bertram,  I  suppose  you 
really  did  approve  of  him?" 

' '  There  was  nothing  to  disapprove. " 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR         77 

"He  seemed  a  gentleman?" 

"Oh,  yes,  a  gentleman." 

"Well,  my  dear?" 

"Well,  mamma,  there  is  nothing 
more  to  say." 

"Then  I  shall  ask  him  to  dinner  at 
once." 

"Ask   him   as   soon    as  you  like; 

only " 

.  "Have  you  anything  whatever 
against  the  man?"  demanded  Lady 
Margaret,  impatiently.  "Why  can 
you  not  be  open  about  it  if  you  have? 
You  may  surely  speak  to  me,  confide 
in  me. ' ' 

"I  have  nothing  to  confide,  and  I 
have  nothing  against  Mr.  Bertram 
whatever — only  Margaret  is  so 
young  and  silly."  Margaret's 
mother  understood  in  an  instant. 

"She  might  just  try  to  make  a  fool 
of  the  poor  man  for  the  fun  of  it, ' ' 
proceeded  the  elder  sister,  now  that 
the  ice  was  broken.  "You  know 
how  heedless  she  is.  She  calls  him 


78        A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

a  'youth,'  but  he  is  older  than  she, 
at  any  rate.  And  I  could  not  help 
fancying  once  or  twice  that  I  saw 
him  looking  at  her.  Mamma,  it 
would  be  a  shame  to  run  any  risk  of 
turning  that  poor  curate's  head,  and 
yet  to  say  anything  to  Margaret — !" 
Finally  a  plan  of  campaign  was 
arranged. 

By  the  end  of  the  summer  Ber- 
tram had  become  quite  an  habitut  of 
the  house,  firmly  established  in  the 
good  graces  of  all,  and,  as  her 
daughters  had  predicted,  a  special 
favourite  with  his  hostess. 

"Yes,  I  thought  you  would  like 
him,"  observed  the  vicar,  compla- 
cently, one  day.  "An  excellent  fel- 
low, and  throws  himself  into  his 
work  like  a  man.  The  only  fault  I 
have  to  complain  of — if  it  be  a  fault, 
Lady  Margaret — is  that  Bertram  does 
not  seem  to  know  what  relaxation  is ! 
I  have  suggested  his  taking  a  holiday 
more  than  once;  or  even  a  day  or 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR         79 

two  off, — but  he  does  not  see  it  at 
all.  He  will  be  invaluable  to  me  as 
the  winter  comes  on;  the  people 
adore  him  already;  and  I  am  grate- 
ful to  you  for  all  the  kindness  he  has 
met  with  at  Garfords." 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Bertram  is  quite  an 
acquisition,"  rejoined  Lady  Mar- 
garet, briskly.  "He  has  come  out 
so  wonderfully  of  late;  and  though 
we  really  do  not  see  very  much  of 
him,  that  only  proves  that  he  is, 
very  properly,  too  much  engaged  in 
parish  work  to  have  time  for  dawd- 
ling in  ladies'  drawing-rooms. 
When  we  do  see  Mr.  Bertram,  he  is 
always  welcome." 

"A  good  preacher  too,  I  think, 
Lady  Margaret?" 

"A  remarkably  good  preacher, 
Mr.  Fairclough. "  ("A  great  deal 
better  preacher  than  you  are  your- 
self," reflected  the  lady,  inwardly. 
She  did  not  over-rate  her  vicar's 
powers  in  that  respect.) 


8o         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

"And  a  good  reader,  moreover,  I 
think  you  will  also  allow?" 

"The  best  reader  we  have  ever 
had,"  said  Lady  Margaret,  with 
animation. 

"I  am  delighted  with  your  ap- 
proval," said  the  vicar,  rising. 
"Your  judgment  was  all  that  I 
needed  to  confirm  my  own.  We 
have  got  a  treasure,  and  I  only  hope 
we  shall  keep  him.  Bertram  dines 
with  you  to-night,  he  tells  me?" 

"To  meet  my  future  son-in-law, 
Captain  Satterthwayte, "  said  Lady 
Margaret,  shaking  hands.  ' '  Captain 
Satterthwayte  has  just  returned 
from  a  voyage,  and  comes  to  us 
to-night;  and  as  the  young  people 
have  not  met  for  some  time,  I 
thought  it  would  be  more  agreeable 
to  have  one  other  gentleman  pres- 
ent, so  that  Margaret  and  I  should 
not  be  quite  neglected,"  with  *a 
smile.  "The  marriage  will  take 
place,  we  hope,  next  month." 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        8l 


to  be  there?"  cried  Ber- 
tram, with  almost  a  shout,  when,  in 
the  course  of  the  next  hour,  the 
name  of  Lady  Margaret's  other 
guest  was  casually  let  fall  by  his 
superior. 

The  tone  of  his  voice  recalled 
something  to  Mr.  Fairclough's  ear, 
and  pondering  upon  it  afterwards  he 
knew  what  that  something  was;  it 
was  the  laugh  which  had  startled 
him  out  of  his  equanimity  on  the 
lawn  at  Garfords  five  months  before. 

Since  then  he  had,  it  is  true, 
grown  to  recognise  the  fact  that  Ber- 
tram could  laugh,  even  to  anticipate 
with  a  pleasurable  emotion  the  re- 
sponse which  a  droll  anecdote  or 
lively  narration  was  sure  to  call  forth 
when  the  pensive  curate  was  off  his 
guard  —  when  he  could  be,  as  it 
were,  surprised  into  mirth.  But 
Mr.  Fairclough  had  always  felt  that 
it  required  himself  as  instigator  to 
produce  the  genial  spark.  Ber- 


82         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

tram's  present  animation  was  a  puz- 
zle not  to  be  solved  by  a  somewhat 
elaborate  and  incoherent  explana- 
tion. 

"He  is  a  very  good  fellow,  but 
certainly  he  is  rather  a  queer  fellow 
at  times,"  muttered  the  vicar  to 
himself. 

Still  queerer  would  he  have 
thought  the  young  man  could  he 
have  peeped  into  the  curate's  dress- 
ing-room as  the  evening  hours  drew 
on. 

Bertram  was  rocking  himself  to 
and  fro  on  a  little  creaking  chair 
that  threatened  every  minute  to  give 
way  beneath  the  strain.  Coats  and 
waistcoats  lay  about  at  random,  and 
the  heavy  boots,  which  had  just  been 
kicked  off,  betrayed,  by  their  dis- 
tance from  their  owner,  the  force 
with  which  they  had  been  sent  fly- 
ing. The  curate's  usually  sleek 
brown  hair  stood  on  end  fierce  and 
rumpled;  his  hands  clasped  his 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        83 

knees,  and  he  rocked  and  groaned 
in  unison. 

"Oh,  you  fool — you  fool!  You 
incarnate  idiot!  You  double-dis- 
tilled idiot,  Jack  Bertram!  To  go 
and  let  yourself  in  for  this!  How 
are  you  going  to  get  out  of  it? 
You're  not  going  to  get  out  of  it  at 
all.  .  .  .  You  have  just  done  for 
yourself,  intolerable  jackass  that  you 
are!"  .  .  .  Another  groan  and 
rock.  "After  all  the  wear  and  tear 
of  it,  to  end  in  this!  And  you  knew 
what  it  must  come  to — you  knew  it 

all  along,  you  tenfold  son  of  a ! 

.  .  .  Oh,  hold  your  tongue  now, 
and  eat  your  pie,  and  be  hanged  to 
3rou!  .  .  .  It's  the  end,  I  tell  you — 
the  end.  The  game's  up.  You've 
played  it  well — too  well,  by  a  long 
chalk.  Every  week  has  let  you 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  mire,  and 
now — the  deluge!" 

"Heigho!"  With  a  long  sigh  the 
speaker  rose  at  last  and  walked  to 


84        A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

the  mirror  on  the  wall.  "He  said  I 
had  'the  face  for  it' — and,  by  Jove! 
he  was  right !  Never  more  so  than 
to-night!  Lady  Margaret  will  press 
on  me  an  extra  glass  of  wine,  and 
implore  me  to  wrap  my  throat  up 
from  the  night  air.  Mary  Whitmore 
will  condescend  to  suggest  that  I 
should  take  the  warm  side  of  the 
table  at  dinner — and  Margaret? 
Margaret  will  be  really  anxious,  and 
give  me  one  of  her  troubled  looks. 
Poor  darling!  She  doesn't  like  it 
any  more  than  I  do,  now.  It  was 
only  a  joke  at  the  first.  Good  heav- 
ens !  why  did  we  let  it  get  into  such 
deadly  earnest?  Lady  Margaret  will 
never  forgive  us — never !  And  if  we 
had  only  not  behaved  like  two 
romantic  lunatics,  we  might  now 
have  been  as  happy  as  Frank  Sat- 
terthwayte  and  his  Maiy.  I  can 
pitch  into  Frank,  anyway,"  he 
wound  up  with  gloomy  vengeance. 
The  gloom,  however,  did  not 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        85 

interfere  with  Mr.  Bertram's  being 
turned  out  faultlessly  when,  his 
toilet  complete,  he  betook  himself  to 
the  house  where,  according  to  his  own 
sensations,  the  bomb  was  to  burst. 

He  knew  his  old  chum  Satter- 
thwayte,  knew  that  it  was  beyond  the 
power  of  mortals  to  divine  what  that 
honest  sailor  would  or  would  not  do 
at  any  given  moment,  more  espe- 
cially beneath  the  spur  of  unwonted 
exhilaration  and  joyous  excitement. 
A  thousand  to  one  in  the  first  flush 
of  re-union  with  his  betrothed,  he 
had  laid  bare  without  a  thought  of 
harm  the  scheme  concocted  by  the 
two  in  a  giddy  moment,  and  adhered 
to  by  Bertram  at  first  on  account  of 
its  plausibility  and  simplicity — after- 
wards, because  he  had  no  choice. 

If  Satterthwayte  had  told?  He 
felt  that  he  should  know  the  moment 
the  drawing-room  door  opened, 
whether  Satterthwayte  had  told,  or 
not. 


86         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

The  room  seemed  to  spin  round, 
and 

"Oh,  Mr.  Bertram,  I  wish  I  had 
sent  the  carriage  for  you,"  exclaimed 
Lady  Margaret's  voice  in  its  most 
gracious  accents.  "I  am  so  sorry. 
It  could  so  easily  have  called  for  you 
when  Captain  Satterthwayte  was 
fetched  from  the  station.  And  you 
look  so  tired  to-night;"  he  was 
pale  and  shaking,  bewildered  too  by 
a  sense  of  reprieve,  and  a  desperate 
anxiety  to  turn  it  to  account.  "You 
must  have  the  carriage  to  take  you 
home, ' '  concluded  Lady  Margaret,  in 
her  kindest  manner. 

She  thought  that  his  lips  mur- 
mured gratitude.  He  himself  did 
not  know  what  they  said. 

When  Captain  Satterthwayte  came 
down,  big,  bronzed,  and  bearded, 
making  the  furniture  rattle  as  he 
burst  in,  and  betraying  no  less  his 
surprise  than  his  satisfaction  at  the 
sight  of  the  guest  whom  Lady  Mar- 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        87 

garet  had  risen  to  present,  Ber- 
tram's face  was  a  sight  to  see. 
Happily  in  real  life  such  a  face  does 
not  attract  the  attention  it  ought  to 
do,  and  aware  of  this,  the  young  man 
was  possibly  even  afraid  that  it 
might  not  be  significant  enough. 
He  clutched  the  other's  hand,  and 
wrung  it  in  an  agony. 

Then  he  saw  that  all  was  so  far 
safe,  as  the  sailor,  tenderly  with- 
drawing his  wounded  member,  eyed 
it  and  him  alternately.  The  look 
said:  "I  understand.  But  you  need 
not  have  broken  my  wrist,  all  the 
same." 

"I  did  not  know  you  two  were 
acquainted,"  said  Lady  Margaret, 
taking  the  young  clergyman's  arm, 
and  letting  him  lead  her — as  by 
virtue  of  his  cloth  she  loved  to 
do — to  the  head  of  her  table.  "We 
have  never  heard  you  mention  Cap- 
tain Satterthwayte.  But  then,  of 
course,"  answering  herself,  "we 


88         A    CLERICAL     EXTERIOR 

may  never  have  mentioned  Captain 
Satterthwayte  to  you."  Then  she 
let  the  subject  drop;  it  was  not  one 
likely  to  interest  Mr.  Bertram. 

She  congratulated  herself,  how- 
ever, on  the  coincidence.  It  was 
quite  a  lucky  hit  her  having  made 
the  addition  to  their  party,  especially 
when  it  proved  that  the  young  men 
had  not  only  been  schoolfellows,  but 
had  kept  up  a  close  friendship — as 
close  a  friendship  as  circumstances 
permitted — ever  since;  Bertram  had 
stayed  at  Sir  Philip  Satterthwayte 's 
— and  apparently  Sir  Philip  had  a 
warm  regard  for  his  son's  friend — 
there  were  hints  about  the  family 
living  which  Lady  Margaret  could 
hardly  comprehend. 

The  hints,  it  is  true,  were  all  on 
one  side.  Captain  Satterthwayte 
was  bubbling  over  with  them,  and 
with  arch  significance.  But  it  did 
seem  odd  that  if  there  were  any- 
thing of  that  kind  in  prospect,  no 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        89 

one  at  Garfords  should  ever  have 
heard  Mr.  Bertram  so  much  as  men- 
tion the  name  of  Satterthwayte. 
She  must  talk  the  matter  over  with 
Mary,  and  find  out  if  Mary  could 
throw  any  light  upon  it. 

Mary  was  sitting  upright  as  usual, 
immaculate  in  dress  and  demeanour 
as  usual,  but  there  was  a  soft  light 
in  her  blue  eye,  and  a  smile  upon 
her  lips  which  was  not  often  there. 
Lady  Margaret  was  herself  conscious 
of  an  expansion  of  the  heart  beneath 
the  jolly  uproar  which  made  itself 
felt  wherever  Frank  Satterthwayte 
was  to  be  found.  It  would  have 
been  natural  that  Margaret  also 
should  have  shared  the  general  ani- 
mation, but  Margaret,  strange  to 
say,  was  out  of  spirits  and  paler  than 
her  wont.  Margaret's  mother  could 
only  suppose  that  her  darling,  like 
poor  dear  Mr.  Bertram,  was  feeling 
tired ;  possibly  a  little  overdone  with 
too  long  a  ride  in  the  afternoon ;  and 


90         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

as  she  looked  from  one  to  the  other, 
the  robust  dowager  wondered  what 
young  people  could  be  made  of  now- 
adays. 

Still  the  dinner  passed  off  cheerily, 
and  in  due  time  came  to  a  close. 
The  ladies  rustled  away,  the  door 
was  shut  behind  them,  and  Ber- 
tram, with  a  new  expression,  turned 
and  faced  his  friend. 

"Good  heavens!  Frank,  it  has 
been  a  close  thing!  Why  didn't  you 
let  me  know  you  were  coming?  I 
have  been  expecting  you  for  weeks ; 
and  then  to  be  taken  by  surprise  at 
the  last!" 

"Very  jolly  surprise,"  said  the 
sailor,  coolly.  "Nice  to  meet  old 
friends  on  the  first  day  of  one's 
return.  Well,  and  how  goes  it?" 
dropping  significance  and  smiling 
frankly.  "How  has  it  turned  out? 
You  seem  quite  at  home  here,  and 
all  that.  And  my  respected 
mother-in-law-to-be  beams  upon  you 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR         91 

through  her  eyeglasses  as  I  hoped 
and  expected  she  would.  Well,  and 
Margaret?  Am  I  to  congratulate 
you  and  Margaret?  You  didn't  look 
quite  the  engaged  couple  to-night, 
to  be  sure — I  might  say  that  one 
wore  a  more  hang-dog  expression 
than  the  other, — but  that's  a  detail. 
Come,  out  with  it!  Is  it  all  right?" 
"All  right?"  echoed  Bertram,  bit- 
terly. "Frank,  if  you  had  known 
what  you  were  doing,  or  if  I  had 
known  what  I  was  doing,  when  you 
planned  and  I  agreed  to  carry  out 

this  devilish  plot " 

"Devilish!  Oh,  come,  Bertram!" 
"I  say  it  is  devilish.  It  was  of 
the  devil's  own  making.  He  em- 
ployed you  to  tempt  me;  and  me 
again  to  tempt  Margaret.  We 
should  never  have  thought  of  such  a 
thing  for  ourselves.  And  you, 
Frank — you,  who  are  as  open  as  the 
day,  to  suggest  that  I  should  play 
the  hypocrite " 


92         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

"All's  fair  in  love  and  war,  you 
know,"  said  Frank,  a  trifle  uneasily. 
"I — upon  my  word,  I  thought  I  was 
doing  you  a  good  turn.  It  seemed 
to  me  there  was  no  chance  for  you, 
unless  you  crept  up  Lady  Margaret's 
sleeve,  and  we  all  know  her  lady- 
ship's proclivities.  She  adores  par- 
sons— but  they  must  be  parsons  of  a 
certain  cut — at  any  rate,  while  they 
are  on  their  promotion.  As  you  had 
decided  on  becoming  a  parson  be- 
fore ever  you  met  Margaret  Whit- 
more,  I  saw  no  harm  in  your  suiting 
yourself  to  the  taste  of  Margaret's 
mother  in  the  cut  of  your  jib,  and  all 
that  goes  with  it.  Then  we  agreed 
that  it  would  be  best  to  begin  the 
acquaintanceship  on  that  level,  and 
not  refer  to  a  certain  jolly  Oxford 
week,  and  a  subsequent  meeting  at 
Henley,  when  Margaret  was  under 
other  chaperonage.  Her  mother 
never  cares  to  hear  about  that  sum- 
mer, as  it  is.  She  thought  Miss  Meg 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        93 

got  out  her  horns  too  far,  and  had 
too  good  a  time  altogether.  Even 
Mary — my  beautiful  Mary — shakes 
her  elder-sisterly  head  over  the 
want  of  starch  in  poor  little  Maggie's 
nature.  They  would  have  been 
horrified  had  they  known  all  that 
went  on,  eh,  Bertram?  That  moon- 
light night  on  the  river — and  the 
couple  that  were  left  behind  on  the 
island — eh?  We  won't  talk  about 
it.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 
You're  not  going  to  funk  now,  are 
you?  Now,  when  we've  brought  it 
all  so  nearly  to  a  conclusion — a  glo- 
rious conclusion?  You've  played 

your  part " 

"And  taught  her  hers,"  said  Ber- 
tram, suddenly  rising  and  flinging 
himself  into  a  fresh  attitude  like  a 
man  stung  beyond  endurance.  "Do 
you  know,  Frank  —  it's  almost 
incredible — but  I  swear  to  you  that 
until  I  saw  you  here  to-night,  or 
even  until  I  heard  you  speak  just 


94        A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

now,  the  whole  black  hypocrisy  of 
this  detestable  proceeding  never 
once  showed  itself  before  my  eyes. 
Margaret  and  I  fell  in  love  with  each 
other  as  a  boy  and  girl  will  do  in  the 
course  of  a  few  days — almost  within 
a  few  hours.  One  long  summer 
evening,  and  the  thing  was  done — " 

"Very  natural,  I'm  sure.  Did  it 
myself  at  your  age."  The  bearded 
sailor  nodded  approval. 

"Oh!  but  hear  me  out,  and  don't 
jest,"  quoth  poor  Bertram,  writhing 
in  the  pangs  of  a  tardy  awakenment. 
"You  are  older  than  I,  and  know  the 
world.  I  was  your  little  chap  at 
school,  and  you  were  good  to  me. 
And  I  would  have  licked  the  black- 
ing off  your  shoes — you  know  I 
would.  You've  always  meant  to  be 
my  friend,  Frank ;  and  you  meant  it 
for  the  best  when  you  cautioned  me 
that  if  once  a  whisper  of  that  happy 
time  reached  the  ears  of  Margaret's 
mother  it  would  never  be  anything 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        95 

but  a  memory — a  wretched,  sorrow- 
ful memory — for  us  both. ' ' 

"True  bill,"  said  Captain  Satter- 
thwayte,  complacently,  "I  did." 

"And  you  suggested  that  we 
should  both  drop  all  appearance  of 
ever  having  met  before,  when  I 
came  here  to  learn  parish  work  as 
Mr.  Fairclough's  curate.  That  I 
should  be  introduced  as  a  perfect 
stranger  to  Lady  Margaret  and  her 
daughters,  and  make  my  way  with 
them  until — oh,  Frank,  why  did  you 
do  it — why — why  did  you  do  it?" 
On  a  sudden  a  groan  that  was  almost 
a  sob  burst  from  the  young  man's 
lips,  his  head  fell  down  upon  his 
hands,  and  the  tremor  which  shook 
his  slender  frame  betrayed  the 
strength  of  the  emotions  within. 

The  cigar  fell  from  between  Frank 
Satterthwayte's  fingers. 

"Why  did  you  do  it?"  repeated 
Bertram,  in  a  fierce  undertone. 
"You  might  have  seen,  you  might 


96         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

have  guessed  what  it  would  lead  to. 
It  has  been  a  lie  from  beginning  to 
end.  We  have  never  met,  she  and  I 
— never  interchanged  a  word  or  look 
— never  touched  each  other's  hand  in 
the  presence  of  a  third  person,  with- 
out acting  a  falsehood.  And  the 
worst  of  it  is  that  I  do  not  believe 
either  of  us  has  realised  this!  I 
doubt  if  we  have  not  even  looked 
upon  it  as  legitimate  and  romantic. 
It  has  been  a  pleasant  pastime. 
Sometimes  I  have  felt  as  if  the  edge 
of  the  precipice  were  perhaps  rather 
too  thin,  but  the  very  danger  was 
exhilarating, — while  as  for  Margaret, 
the  poor  guileless  child,  she  thinks  it 
must  be  right  because  /  approve! 
God  forgive  me!  Her  crime  lies  at 
my  door  as  well  as  my  own. ' ' 

"Come,  come,  this — this  is  all 
nonsense,  you  know,  Bertram." 
Captain  Satterthwayte  pulled  him- 
self together  and  shook  off  an  un- 
comfortable sensation.  "You  are 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        97 

growing  the  least  little  bit  absurd, 
don't  you  think?  Call  a  trifle  like 
this  a  'crime'?  Oh,  come,  you 
know,"  laying  a  remonstrating  hand 
on  the  other's  shoulder,  "I  expect 
my  sudden  appearance  on  the  scene 
gave  you  a  bit  of  a  shake ;  and  you 
thought  that  perhaps  I,  in  the 
exuberance  of  this  merry  meeting, 
might  have  blurted  out  the  truth  to 
Margaret's  sister." 

"Would  to  heaven  you  had!" 

"Would  to  heaven  I  had?"  Satter- 
thwayte  stared.  "And  pray,  why?" 

"Because  it  would  have  saved  me 
from  doing  so,"  said  Bertram, 
slowly,  "to  Margaret's  mother." 

"Humph!  That's  it,  is  it?  I  sup- 
pose you  know,"  looking  at  him 
keenly,  "what  the  upshot  of  such  a 
move  would  be?" 

"I  know.  Yes.  I  have  been 
knowing  for  the  last  hour.  I  am 
going  now,"  with  a  move  towards 
the  door,  "to  do  it." 


98         A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

For  the  moment  it  seemed  as  if  he 
were  to  be  allowed  to  do  it.  Then 
with  a  hasty  step  Satterthwayte  was 
between  him  and  the  door  handle. 

"Look  here,  Jack.  I  don't  want 
you  to  ruin  yourself,  and  lay  the 
blame  on  my  shoulders!  As  you 
listened  to  me  once — perhaps  to 
your  cost — you  are  bound  to  listen 
again." 

"I  am  not  bound." 

"You  are,  and  don't  be  a  fool." 
He  was  pushed  gently  backwards 
towards  the  fireplace.  ' '  This  is  a  bad 
business,  I  allow.  I  didn't  think  the 
thing  out,  when  I  let  you  in  for  it. 
But  it's  done,  and  can't  be  undone. 
You  have  Margaret  to  consider  as 
well  as  yourself.  The  poor  girl  is 
head  and  ears  in  love,  as  anyone  can 
see — anyone  at  least  with  half  an 
eye — a  thing  which,  begging  her 
pardon,  Margaret's  lady  mother  does 
not  possess;  but  I  hold  the  key 
which  will  unlock  her  ladyship's 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR        99 

heart.  It  was  to  put  this  into 
your  hands,"  with  slow,  deliberate 
emphasis,  "that  I  came  down  upon 
you  so  sharp  to-night.  I  would  not 
wait  to  write.  And  besides,  I 
wanted  to  be  in  at  the  death.  Do 
you  take  me?" 

"No,"  said  poor  Bertram,  be- 
wildered. "But,  for  God's  sake, 
Frank,  don't  propose  any  more " 

1 '  I  am  not  going  to  propose  any- 
thing. It  is  you  who  are  going  to 
propose;"  the  jolly  sailor  laughed 
with  keen  enjoyment  of  his  own 
quip.  "You  shall  make  two  pro- 
posals before  this  evening  is  over, 
my  dear  fellow.  You  shall  go  to 
Lady  Margaret  as  vicar-designate  of 
Satterthwayte — aye,  you  may  jump, 
but  the  old  boy  has  given  his  word 
that  he  will  retire  in  six  months, 
and  my  father  has  given  his  that  you 
shall  have  the  living.  Eh!  D'ye 
hear  that?  It's  true,  and  you  may 
believe  it ;  so  that  long  physiognomy 


100      A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

of  yours  may  shorten  again.  The 
living  of  Satterthwayte  is  good 
enough  for  anyone  to  marry  upon, 
and  though  our  good  hostess  may  be 
taken  aback  for  a  moment,  I  shall 
be  astonished  if  between  us  we  can- 
not work  upon  her  to  consent  to 
your  speaking  to  Meg  this  very 
night.  Think  of  it,  Bertram!  By 
George!  You  shall  go  home  an 
engaged  man !  And  though  it  would 
be  too  much  to  expect  that  we 
should  have  both  weddings  on  the 
same  day,  still,  by  the  spring,  when 
you  are  installed  parish  priest  among 
the  old  folks  at  home,  and  take  pos- 
session of  your  pretty  vicarage,  it 
could  be  made  ready  for  a  bride; 
and  I  might  leave  my  wife  with  her 
sister  if  I  have  to  be  off  to  sea  again. 
At  any  rate,  I  fancy  it  would  weigh 
something  with  my  future  mother- 
in-law  that  in  years  to  come  her  girls 
would  no  more  be  separated  than 
in  years  past.  The  vicarage  is 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR      IOI 

actually  within  the  park  palings,  you 

know, " 

"Stop,"  said  Bertram,  hoarsely. 
As  the  other  spoke  he  had  been  look- 
ing from  side  to  side  with  the  air  of 
a  hunted  animal  round  whom  the 
toils  were  gathering  fast,  and  twice 
had  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  and 
twice  had  closed  it  again.  Both 
hands  were  fast  clenched.  "Stop — 
tempter."  Then  with  instant  com- 
punction: "No,  no,  Frank,  I  did  not 
mean  it.  Forgive  the  word.  But, 
Frank,  you  who  are  an  honest  fel- 
low, do  you  know  what  you  are 
doing?  You  have  drawn  a  picture" 
— his  eyes  gleamed;  "it  would  be 
simply  everything  to  me,"  he  mur- 
mured. "I  love  you  and  yours.  I 
love  that  part  of  the  country.  I 
hope  and  trust  I  could  do  my  duty 
among  you  all,  and  yet  be  myself — 
my  own  true  self  as  you  have  known 
me  in  years  gone  by.  And  with 
Margaret  for  my  wife " 


102      A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

"You  would  be  as  happy  as  the 
day  is  long.  All  right.  I  thought 
you'd  see  it  so.  Well,  now,  you 
can't  reproach  me  any  more " 

"I  said  'Stop,'  "  said  Bertram,  in 
a  low  voice.  "Have  you  thought  of 
the  price  which  has  to  be  paid  for 
it  all?" 

"The— price?" 

"I  am  to  go  to  Margaret's  mother 
with  a  lie  in  my  hand.  I,  a  Chris- 
tian gentleman!  A  man  who  has 
taken  upon  himself  to  live  a  higher 
life  even  than  that  of  ordinary 
Christians !  I  am  to ' ' 

"Cock-a-doodle-doo-o-o!  Cut  it, 
Jack!  Don't  let  us  in  for  any  more 
of  that  high  falutin  rot.  You  are 
simply  to  go  on  as  you  are  doing. 
To  be  as  you  have  been  for  the  past 
four  or  five  months.  Some  day  or 
other,  when  all  is  squared  up  be- 
tween you  two,  Margaret  may  con- 
fess  ' ' 

"Margaret?       Poor    child!       You 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR      103 

think  I  would  be  a  coward,  too, 
Frank?" 

"Confess  yourself,  then,  if  you 
like  the  job.  Only  take  your  own 
time  and  place.  When  the  engage- 
ment is  given  out  and  everybody  has 
heard  of  it,  you  will  have  Lady 
Margaret  at  your  mercy.  She 
wouldn't  dare  back  out.  And 
though  you  might,  and  probably 
would  both  have  a  mauvais  quart 
d'henre,  you  could  look  on  that  as 
the  proper  penance  for  your  iniquity, 
if  you're  so  keen  on  penance.  I 
should  wait  till  Mary  was  out  of  the 
way,"  added  the  speaker,  after  a 
pause.  "It  would  be  easier  for  Mar- 
garet. And  if  you  like  to  depute  me 
to  break  it  to  my  girl,  I  think  I 
could  manage  her,"  he  concluded, 
with  the  confidence  of  a  happy  lover. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Each 
knew  that  the  crucial  moment  had 
arrived.  "If  he  is  obstinate  now," 
quoth  Frank  Satterthwayte  to  him- 


104      A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

self,  "Heaven  have  mercy  on  us 
both!"  He  would  not  try  another 
syllable  of  argument ;  he  felt  he  had 
said  all  he  could  say.  And  now? 

Bertram's  features,  drawn  and 
stiffened,  repelled  alike  sympathy 
and  counsel.  It  was  plain  that  the 
fight  within  must  be  fought  out  by 
himself  alone. 

Only  a  few  minutes  by  the  clock 
ticking  on  the  mantelpiece,  yet  to 
each  the  interval  seemed  an  age,  ere 
by  a  sudden  electrical  shock  the  eyes 
of  both  flashed  into  each  other,  and 
something  very  like  an  oath  escaped 
from  the  lips  of  one.  Bertram 
simply  nodded  his  head,  and  walked 
from  the  room. 

Captain  Satterthwayte  lit  another 
cigar.  "I  shall  hear  him  go  out  of 
the  front  door  presently,"  muttered 
he. 

How  it  all  ended  has  long  been  a 
matter  of  history.  No  one  beyond 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR      105 

the  initiated  few  ever  heard  the  tale 
of  that  strange  evening  at  Garfords 
— that  evening  which  brought  to 
light  such  surprises  for  all;  which 
began  with  such  suffering  and 
humiliation,  such  storm  and  stress, 
and  en'ded  in  such  a  heaven  of  peace 
and  joy. 

Bertram  himself  felt  as  if  another 
Power  than  his  own  were  at  work  on 
his  behalf;  as  if  the  victory  which 
he  had  gained  in  that  dumb  struggle 
with  his  baser  self  had  expiated 
after  some  fashion  of  its  own  all  that 
had  gone  before,  and  rendered  him 
strong  to  brave  the  downfall  of  his 
hopes,  as  well  as  the  scorn  and 
reproaches  which  he  too  well  knew 
would  deservedly  fall  to  his  share. 

He  went  into  Lady  Margaret's 
presence  prepared  for  this — prepared 
for  everything.  In  his  heart  there 
was  but  one  thought,  to  confess  his 
fault  without  an  iota  of  reservation, 
and  to  take  upon  his  own  head  the 


106      A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

blame  of  it  in  every  respect.  He 
would  not  mention  Frank  Satter- 
thwayte's  name,  and  he  would  plead 
for  Margaret;  a  stab  went  through 
his  heart  when  he  guessed  how  it 
would  be  when  he  began  to  plead  for 
Margaret.  He  would  be  desired  not 
to  mention  the  name  of  Lady  Mar- 
garet Whitmore's  daughter.  He 
would  be  accused,  and  rightly,  of 
perverting  her  conscience  and  her 
judgment.  He  would  have  his  holy 
profession  thrown  in  his  teeth — 
rightly  also.  He  would  be  bidden  to 
leave  the  house,  and  have  it  hinted 
that  he  would  do  well  to  withdraw 
from  the  neighbourhood  also. 

Would  Lady  Margaret  insist  upon 
Mr.  Fairclough's  being  informed  of 
his  curate's  disgraceful  conduct? 
He  felt  that  he  would  have  to  obey 
any  demands  and  comply  with  any 
terms  dictated.  It .  all  passed 
through  Bertram's  mind  like  a  flash 
of  revelation  as  he  walked  across  the 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR      107 

short  space  between  the  doors  of  the 
two  rooms.  But  he  never  wavered. 
One  moment  he  stood  still,  his  hand 
upon  the  door  handle.  One  quick 
sigh  escaped  as  a  burst  of  sweet 
music  from  within  assailed  his  ears; 
and  one  upward  glance  implored  pity 
and  aid  for  a  poor  soul  in  its 
extremity,  and  then 

"Lady  Margaret,"  said  Bertram, 
walking  up  to  a  distant  armchair, 
"would  you  be  good  enough  to  grant 
me  a  few  minutes'  private  conversa- 
tion? May  we  retire  into  the  back 
drawing-room?" 

Looking  back,  he  beheld  the  scene 
with  dazed  and  incredulous  eyes. 
Lady  Margaret's  start  of  surprise; 
next  her  gracious  signification  of 
assent;  then  her  frozen  muteness 
of  amazement;  finally — what  took 
place  finally  he  could  scarce,  even  in 
the  retrospect,  behold  at  all.  Could 
it  have  been  his  own  voice  which  so 
steadily  proclaimed  his  own  base- 


108      A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

ness?  Could  it  have  been  he  himself 
who  so  unflinchingly  painted  its 
darkest  colours,  and  called  upon  his 
auditor  to  note  how  black  they  were? 
He  had  hidden  nothing,  extenuated 
nothing, — and  through  it  all  a  rigid, 
upright  figure  sat  and  listened  as 
though  petrified.  When  the  end 
came  he  waited  in  vain  for  the  pent- 
up  outburst  which  must  follow. 

Then  he  realised  that  Lady  Mar- 
garet was  a  woman  of  a  finer  nature 
than  he  had  given  her  credit  for 
being.  She  would  not  stoop  to  add 
her  reproaches  to  his  own.  It  was 
sufficient  that  he  had  abased  him- 
self; she  would  not  heap  added 
humiliation  upon  his  head.  He  per- 
ceived that  he  was  to  be  allowed  to 
depart  without  further  torture. 

And  he  had  turned  to  do  so,  and 
even  advanced  a  pace  towards  re- 
treat, when  a  thin  hand  was  put  out 
with  a  motion  of  arrest,  and  a  faint, 
quavering  voice — curiously  unlike 


A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR      IOQ 

Lady  Margaret's  voice — pronounced 
his  name.  Looking  round  he  saw, 
not  the  stately  lady  of  the  manor, 
the  awe-inspiring  mistress  of  Gar- 
fords,  but  an  old,  old  woman,  with 
tears  running  down  her  cheeks. 

"Stay  a  moment,  sir,  until — until 
I  am  able  to  speak."  Then  the 
jewelled  hand  beckoned  him  to  ap- 
proach, and  with  faltering  steps  he 
obeyed.  Lady  Margaret  was  seek- 
ing for  her  handkerchief;  seeking 
hither  and  thither  in  vain.  Ber- 
tram, with  the  gesture  of  a  son,  drew 
an  unfolded  one  from  his  pocket 
and  reverently  tendered  it.  As  he 
did  so,  she  caught  him  fast,  as 
though  afraid  he  would  again  essay 
to  depart,  ere  she  could  compose  her 
broken  breath  and  subdue  the 
quivering  muscles  of  her  face.  He 
wondered  what  was  coming — what 
could  be  coming? 

And  at  length — marvel  of  marvels 
— a  whisper  the  most  extraordinary, 


110      A    CLERICAL    EXTERIOR 

the  most  incredible,  fell  upon  his 
ear.  Was  it  Lady  Margaret  speak- 
ing? Or  was  it  a  Diviner  Voice 
which  breathed  through  her  lips  the 
words  just  faintly  audible:  "If  ye 
do  not  forgive,  neither  will  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven  forgive 
your  trespasses." 

Nor  from  that  moment,  nor  to  the 
very  end  of  her  days,  was  the  subject 
ever  again  alluded  to  by  Bertram's 
mother-in-law.  Where  Lady  Mar- 
garet forgave,  she  forgave  freely; 
when  she  trusted,  she  trusted  im- 
plicitly. Bertram's  voluntary  con- 
fession, supplemented  as  it  was  by 
Captain  Satterthwayte's  account  of 
his  own  share  in  the  affair — an  ac- 
count which  in  justice  it  should  be 
said  was  rendered  with  strict  truth- 
fulness, Frank  having  been  more 
impressed  than  he  cared  to  own  by 
the  example  of  his  friend — all  so 
wrought  upon  a  nature  nobler  than 


A    CLERICAL    EXTEKlOR      III 

the  world  had  ever  guessed  it  to  be, 
and  upon  a  spirit  genuinely  influ- 
enced by  the  great  doctrines  of 
Christianity,  that  in  her  anxiety  to 
restore  the  penitent  to  himself,  to 
mark  her  appreciation  of  the  true 
worth  of  his  character,  and  to  show 
that  its  solitary  lapse  from  integrity 
was  to  be  no  bar  to  her  renewed  and 
even  deepened  esteem,  Lady  Mar- 
garet evinced  an  overflowing  tender- 
ness of  generosity  which  amazed  all 
who  knew  her. 

Bertram  became  her  favourite  son- 
in-law,  albeit  she  soon  discovered 
him  to  be  by  nature  the  merriest, 
lightest-hearted  fellow  alive.  She 
secretly  comforted  herself  for  this  by 
the  reflection  that,  in  spite  of  all,  he 
still  did  undeniably  possess  a  clerical 
exterior. 


ONLY    KITTY 


Only   Kitty 


KODAK"  OF  LONDON  LIFE 


Kitty  was  pretty, 

And  Kitty  was  witty, 

But  Kitty,  alack  !  was  only  Kitty. 


It  was  "only  Kitty"  who  had 
received  such  a  very  odd  invitation, 
that  all  the  feminine  heads  of  the 
family  were  gathered  together  to 
smile  over  the  letter  which  conveyed 
it.  If  it  had  been  either  of  the  two 
elder  Miss  Masterdons  who  had  been 
invited  to  spend  a  month  in  Gordon 
Square,  Bloomsbury,  during  the 
height  of  the  London  season,  all 
concerned  would  almost  have  felt  as 
if  Maud  and  Ethel  had  been  in- 
sulted. Maud  and  Ethel  were  such 
very  grand  young  ladies. 

"5 


Il6  ONLY   KITTY 

But  now  that  it  was  only  Kitty  to 
whom  kind  old  Mrs.  Benetfink — (the 
wealthy  and  worthy  kinswoman 
whom  no  one  wished  to  offend,  but 
whom  it  was  sometimes  rather  awk- 
ward to  evade) — had  extended  the 
finger  of  hospitality,  Mrs.  Masterdon 
and  her  daughters  looked  at  each 
other,  as  we  have  said,  with  a  smile, 
while  Kitty  raised  a  shout  of  joy. 

"Oh,  let  me  go!  Let  me  go!" 
cried  she,  prancing  up  and  down. 
"Father,  say  I'm  to  go,"  darting  up 
to  the  old  squire,  who,  all  uncon- 
scious, placidly  opened  the  door  of 
the  room.  "Father,  do  be  on  my 
side,"  seizing  him  by  the  arm  and 
shaking  it  vigorously.  "You  know 
you  always  are  on  my  side,  aren't 
you?  And  if  you  say  I  am  to  go, 
mother  won't  refuse. " 

"Eh?"  said  he,  stopping  short,  and 
looking  from  one  to  the  other. 
"What?" 

"Oh  now,  father,  do  promise  me 


ONLY    KIT  T  Y  117 

before  they  begin.  Don't  listen  to 
anyone  but  me.  You  say  that  I'm 
to  go,— " 

"But  how  can  I  say?  I — upon  my 
word — I  don't  know  what  it  is  all 
about.  Do  some  of  you  explain." 
And  the  poor  gentleman  looked 
round  for  aid;  though  it  is  note- 
worthy that  he  did  not  attempt  to 
shake  off  the  vehement  little  gadfly 
which  had  fastened  upon  him. 
"What  is  she  rushing  at  me  like  this 
for?"  he  demanded,  finally. 

"It  is  only  Kitty,  you  know, ' '  be- 
gan his  eldest  daughter,  with  the 
usual  condescending  intonation. 
"She  always  flies  into  a  fever  about 
everything.  Kitty,  don't  worry 
father.  Of  course  he  will  agree  to 
whatever  mother  thinks  right. ' ' 

"Oh,  of  course!"  assented  he,  with 
a  touch  of  quiet  grimness. 

"And  so  if  you  will  let  mother 
think  it  over,  and  not  be  in  such  a 
hurry,  I  dare  say  you  will  get  what 


Il8  ONLY    KITTY 

you  want.  It  is  an  invitation  from 
Mrs.  Benetfmk,  father." 

"Mrs.  Benetfink?     Oh!" 

"She  wants  Kitty  to  go  to  her 
next  Monday  to  spend  a  few  weeks." 

"A  month,"  bursts  in  Kitty 

"A  few  weeks  or  a  month," 
amended  the  narrator.  "It  is  really 
very  kind  of  Mrs.  Benetfink,  and 
well  meant,  and  all  that;  and,  of 
course,  she  does  not  know  any 
better." 

"Know  any  better?"  echoed 
Kitty's  little  shrill  voice. 

' '  Oh,  we  all  know  how  you  feel ! ' ' 
continued  Miss  Maud,  not  unkindly. 
' '  You  are  wild  to  go  anywhere  and 
everywhere.  It's  all  one  to  you 
whether  it  is  Belgravia  or  Blooms- 
bury,  Mayf air  or  Wapping ;  I  believe 
you  would  cheerfully  start  for  -Beth- 
nal  Green  to-morrow  if  anybody 
would  put  you  into  the  train." 

"Well,  well,  it's  only  Kitty," 
quoth  Mrs.  Masterdon,  with  the 


ONLY    KITTY  119 

usual  half  indulgent,  half  con- 
temptuous smile,  "and  she  is  so 
young  and  inexperienced!" — Kitty 
nodded  delightedly  at  each  adjective 
— "that  all  neighbourhoods  are  alike 
to  her.  And  really  it  does  not  mat- 
ter, you  know,  where  an  tin-come-out 
girl  goes" — pausing  for  reflection. 

"I  think  she  ought  to  go,"  said 
Ethel,  slowly.  Ethel's  decisions 
were  final  at  Monk's  Gary.  Kitty 
nearly  fell  at  her  sister's  feet. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Masterdon,  albeit 
people  of  family  and  fortune,  had  no 
town-house  of  their  own,  and  were 
indisposed  to  rent  one,  and  undergo 
all  the  fatigue  and  turmoil  of  the 
London  season  during  the  months  of 
the  year  when  their  own  beautiful 
country-seat  was  most  congenial  to 
them,  and  when  the  effort  was  not 
absolutely  necessary  from  other 
motives  than  those  of  enjoyment. 

According  to  their  views — or,  to 


120  ONLY    KITTY 

be  strictly  correct,  according  to  Mrs. 
Masterdon's  views — it  would  have 
been  their  bounden  duty  to  make  an 
annual  move  as  soon  as  the  ages  of 
her  daughters  seemed  to  demand 
recognition,  had  she  not  by  good  hap 
been  exempt  from  pressing  the  point 
in  the  case  of  her  eldest,  who  had 
been  engaged  and  married — married 
handsomely,  too — before  ever  she 
had  been  presented  at  Court. 

A  few  county  balls  and  shooting 
dinner  parties  had  done  the  business 
almost  ere  the  young  lady's  parents 
themselves  had  opened  their  eyes  to 
the  fact  that  there  was  a  suitor  in  the 
case;  and  since  then  there  had 
always  been  Lady  Latimer's  house 
in  South  Street  for  Maud  and  Mabel 
to  resort  to  when  the  month  of  May 
came  round. 

Letitia  was  well  pleased  to  have 
her  sisters.  She  was  an  amiable  girl, 
perfectly  well-conducted,  perfectly 
satisfied  with  her  own  position,  and 


ONLY    KITTY  121 

benevolently  ready  to  do  what  she 
could  towards  helping  the  younger 
ones  to  similar  good  fortune. 

Her  husband, usually  called  ' '  Little 
Bob,"  was  a  good-natured,  gossipy 
little  fellow,  with  plenty  of  friends, 
nothing  to  do,  and  all  day  to  do 
it  in. 

To  the  care,  then,  of  this  young 
couple  Mrs.  Masterdon  was  well 
pleased  to  despatch  her  daughters 
whenever  they  desired  to  exchange 
the  woods  and  fields  of  Monk's  Gary 
for  the  glitter  and  gloss  of  Rotten 
Row,  the  while  she  herself  remained 
behind  to  attend  to_  her  flower  bor- 
ders, cut  her  lavender,  and  dry  her 
rose-leaves ;  and  on  the  occasion  with 
which  this  little  story  opens,  Maud 
and  Ethel  were  just  preparing  to 
depart  for  their  annual  sojourn. 

"I  shall  go  up  with  you  \vhen  I  go 
to  Mrs.  Benetfink's,"  said  Kitty, 
gleefully.  "I  shall  go  with  you  as 
far  as  the  station, — but  I  sha'n't  want 


122  ONLY    KITTY 

you  a  bit  beyond.  Mrs.  Benetfink 
is  going  to  send  her  own  carriage 
for  me,  and  I  shall  drive  off  in  it  all 
by  my  self;  and  then  I'm  to  see  no 
more  of  you  all  the  time  I'm  in  Gor- 
don Square — isn't  that  it?  You 
won't  come  prowling  after  me,  and 
wanting  to  know  what  I'm  doing, 
and  where  I'm  going?"  (She  did 
not  perceive  the  covert  amusement 
in  two  pairs  of  eyes  as  she  spoke. ) 
"Because,  you  know,  though  I  am 
very  fond  of  you  both,  I  do  want  to 
be  quite  on  my  own  hook, ' '  pursued 
she,  anxiously.  "I  think  it  will  be 
such  fun;  and  I  think  it's  a  splendid 
idea  not  to  tell  Mrs.  Benetfink  an)*- 
thing  about  your  being  up,  if  we  can 
only  keep  from  meeting;  and  Lon- 
don is  such  a  very  big  place  that  I 
dare  say  we  shall  be  able  to  manage 
that,"  she  added,  reflectively; 
"though,  of  course,  I  shall  see  you 
sometimes  in  the  Park — but  oh,  I 
say,  Maud,"  breaking  off  short, 


ONLY   KITTY  123 

"what  if  Mrs.  Benetfink  sees  you 
tool" 

Maud  took  her  sister's  hand. 
"Now,  Kitty,  listen;  and  try  to  be  a 
little  grown-up,  and  reasonable,  and 
sensible.  Though  you  are  only 
seventeen,  you  are  not  a  child;  and 
you  can  surely  begin  to  understand 
things.  We  think  it  will  be  easiest 
to  say  nothing  about  our  being  in 
Town ;  but  if  Mrs.  Benetfink  recog- 
nizes us  anywhere  when  she  is  out 
driving  with  you,  all  you  need  say 
is  that  we  are  staying  with  Letitia, 
and  that  you  will  write  and  let  us 
know  if  she  would  like  us  to  call. 
Don't  do  this  unless  you  are  obliged, ' ' 
emphatically.  "You  see,  Mrs. 
Benetfink  is  not  quite- — quite " 

"Oh,  I  know  she's  rather  vulgar!" 
said  Kitty,  frankly.  "/  don't 
mind ;  but  I  dare  say  Letitia  would 
curl  up  sometimes.  I'll  take  care," 
nodding  merrily.  "We  vulgarians 
sha'n't  cross  the  path  of  you 


124  ONLY    KITTY 

grandees.  We  are  going  to  enjoy 
ourselves  in  our  own  way;  and  we 
don't  want  you,  any  more  than  you 
want  us;  and  if  I  pass  you  sitting 
aloft  behind  your  powdered  and 
cockaded  men  when  I  am  in  my 
humbler  carriage,  I  shall  just  wink 
to  you  and  grin  to  myself  as  I  go 
by." 

"For  goodness'  sake,  don't  wink, 
Kitty!" 

"Mayn't  I  wink?  Well,  then,  I 
shall  give  you  a  fearfully  knowing 
look,  and  you  shall  see  that  I  am 
laughing  to  myself.  Or,  suppose  I 
drop  my  parasol  between  Mrs. 
Benetfink  and  you,  and  make  a 
face  like  this,"  puckering  up  her 
mouth,  "for  your  and  Letitia's 
benefit?" 

"You  understand,  Kitty,  that  it  is 
only  on  Letitia's  account  that  we — 
we, — of  course  Letitia  has  Bob's 
people  to  think  of.  In  London  one 
has  to  be  so  very  particular  whom 


ONLY    KITTY  125 

one  knows.  No  doubt  Mrs.  Benet- 
fink  would  like  to  know  Letitia  very 
much " 

"No  doubt  she  would  do  nothing 
of  the  kind,"  thrust  in  Kitty. 
"Letitia's  a  fine  lady,  and  Mrs. 
Benetfink  is  just  a  dear,  old,  rather 
common  one ;  as  nice  as  she  can  be, 
and  not  at  all  troubling  her  head 
about  doing  the  'right  thing,'  and 
going  to  the  'right  places,'  as  you 
swells  do." 

"Kitty,  dear  child,  don't  say  'you 
swells.'  " 

"Why  not?  You  are  swells,  you 
and  Ethel.  I  always  think  how 
gorgeous  you  look  when  you  set 
forth  all  in  your  best,  holding  your 
heads  in  the  air,  for  some  grand 
party  or  other;  and  I  am  sure  to 
hear  afterwards  how  you've  been 
admired  and  made  a  fuss  about. 
But  you  will  never  turn  me  into  a 
swagger  Miss  Masterdon.  I'm  only 
Kitty,  and  I  like  to  enjoy  myself; 


126  ONLY    KITTY 

and  though  Mrs.  Benetfink  does 
sometimes  make  me  laugh  a  little 
down  in  my  throat,  it's  not  her  I'm 
laughing  at,  it's  only  her  way  of 
looking  at  things.  And  as  for  letting 
her  go  to  a  house  where  she  wasn't 
wanted' ' — the  colour  rose  in  Kitty's 
cheek — "you  may  be  very  sure  I 
shall  take  care  she  doesn't  do  tJiat!" 
she  concluded,  proudly. 

"Say  no  more,"  whispered  Maud 
to  Ethel.  She  perceived  the  right 
chord  had  been  touched. 

Directly  the  train  stopped  at 
Waterloo  Station,  Kitty  was  on  the 
alert  to  bid  her  sisters  farewell,  and 
be  off  by  herself  with  her  own  foot- 
man, whom  her  quick  eyes  espied  in 
a  twinkling,  and  whom  she  had 
been  instructed  how  to  distinguish 
by  a  ribbon  passed  through  his 
buttonhole.  Mrs.  Benetfink  had 
herself  tied  the  ribbon  there,  and 
impressed  upon  Andrew,  a  raw 
Scotch  youth,  good  of  heart  but 


ONLY    KITTY  127 

sluggish  of  brain,  to  be  as  clever  as 
he  could  in  picking  out  her  young 
lady  visitor  from  among  the  train's 
passengers. 

What  Andrew's  cleverness  might 
have  amounted  to  boots  not  here  to 
inquire,  for  Kitty  saved  him  the 
trouble  of  exerting  it. 

"There  he  is!  That's  my  man!" 
she  cried,  with  keen  exultation; 
"and  just  where  he  should  be — just 
where  I  was  looking  for  him !  And 
I  dare  say  that's  your  creature,  all 
painted  and  powdered,  gaping  up 
and  down,  and  hardly  taking  the 
trouble  to  turn  his  head  this  way! 
Isn't  that  your  creature?  I  knew  it 
was !  As  like  Letitia  as  he  can  be — 
I  mean  as  like  Letitia' s  footman — I 
mean — never  mind,  I'm  off.  Good- 
bye to  you  both.  Bless  you"!  bless 
you!  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  yourselves 
one  half  as  much  as  I  mean  to  do. 
I  say,"  turning  back  with  a  momen- 
tary hesitation,  "you  might  just  drop 


128  ONLY    KIT  TY 

me  a  line  now  and  then  to  tell  me 
what  you  are  about. ' ' 

"Of  course  we  shall  write  to  you, 
child!"  said  Maud,  kindly.  "What 
an  absurd  girl  you  are !  You  speak 
almost  as  if  we  should  be  ashamed  of 
you,  and  you  know  it  is  not  that  at 
all." 

"Oh,  I  know  it  is  not  that!"  said 
Kitty,  cheerfully,  though  her  eye- 
lids quivered  a  little.  "I  know  all 
about  it.  But  it  just  seemed  rather 
odd  to  be  saying  'Good-bye'  and  yet 
to  be  stopping  in  the  same  place." 

But  in  a  few  minutes  she  had  forgot- 
ten all  about  the  oddness.  Kitty  had 
such  a  sweet,  frank  nature,  and  such 
perfect  trustfulness  in  the  good  will 
of  all  about  her,  that  it  only  needed 
an  affectionate  kiss  from  either  sis- 
ter, and  the  repeated  assurance  that 
she  would  be  thought  of  and  com- 
municated with  (at  intervals),  for 
her  to  cast  off  the  little  cloud  which 
had  for  a  moment  overshadowed  her 


ONLY    KITTY  129 

spirits,  and  for  all  to  be  sunshine 
once  more. 

As  she  drove  off  in  Mrs.  Benet- 
fmk's  solid,  comfortable  carriage, 
which,  to  her  glee,  was  empty,  her 
hostess  having  been  detained  at  the 
last  moment,  she  indulged  herself 
by  making  the  promised  "face"  as 
she  passed  Lady  Latimer's  elegant 
victoria,  and  neither  Maud  nor 
Ethel  could  resist  laughing  in 
response. 

It  was  only  Kitty — and  their  hearts 
felt  rather  soft  towards  Kitty  as  she 
rolled  away. 

By  the  time  Kitty  arrived  in  Gor- 
don Square  her  happiness,  impor- 
tance, and  pleasurable  anticipation 
were  a  treat  to  see.  The  friends, 
whose  unexpected  call  had  detained 
Mrs.  Benetfmk  in  her  own  drawing- 
room,  fell  in  love  with  her  young 
visitor  on  the  spot.  They  had  never 
beheld  anything  prettier  than  Kitty's 
bounding  rush  into  the  old  lady's 


130  ONLY    KITTY 

arms.  "And  wasn't  it  kind  of  her 
to  think  of  me?"  she  appealed  to  the 
other  two,  whose  sympathising  faces 
betokened  appreciation  and  begot 
confidence.  "And  to  have  me  all  by 
myself!  Just  what  I  like  best!  To 
go  about  with  her,  you  know,  all 
day  long !  And  no  one  else  to  inter- 
fere! No  one  else  to  be  talked  to! 
Just  we  two  together!  Won't  it  be 
delightful?" 

The  visitors  gone,  "Now  let  us 
talk,"  cried  Kitty,  settling  down. 
"Let  us  plan  it  all  out.  It  begins 
with  to-morrow,  doesn't  it?" 

"Well,  I  took  tickets  for  to- 
night  " 

For  to-night!"  screamed  Kitty. 

"For  the  Botanic  Fete,"  nodded 
Mrs.  Benetfink.  "So  now,  shall  we 
go  up  and  see  your  room?  My  maid 
is  putting  out  your  things;  and, 
Kitty,"  nervously,  "I — I  just  took 

the  liberty  of  getting  in  these " 

for  laid  upon  the  bed  in  Kitty's  room 


ONLY    KITTY  131 

were  three  lovely  new  made-up 
skirts;  one  with  a  neat  little  bodice, 
the  other  two  with  materials  await- 
ing construction.  ' '  Being  a  relation 
and  an  old  body,  and  your  own  par- 
ticular friend,  I  thought  your  mamma 
would  allow  me,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Benetfink,  trying  not  to  look  guilty. 
"You  see,  it's  so  difficult  to  get 
things  attended  to  for  all ;  and  your 
sisters — so  I  just  took  it  on  myself. 
And  there's  a  nice  little  dressmaker 
at  Marshall's,"  smiling  across  the 
bed,  "who  is  coming  in  to-morrow 
morning,  first  thing  after  breakfast. 
Well  now,  I  am  glad  you're  pleased. 
I  thought  you  would  be, "  returning 
a  rapturous  embrace.  "And  here  is 
Blossom  to  look  after  you  and  settle 
you  in.  Blossom  says  if  you  mind 
sleeping  alone  in  this  big  room  that 
Lizzie — that's  the  under-girl — can 
have  a  bed  in  the  dressing-room 
here,"  opening  a  side  door.  "Oh, 
the  bed's  there  already,  I  see!  And 


132  ONLY    KI  TT'Y 

quite  right  too,  Blossom.  I  am  glad 
you  went  and  did  it  without  stopping 
to  ask  questions.  So  now  I'll  be  off, 
and  you  take  your  time,  and  shake 
off  all  your  dust.  If  you  would  like 
a  warm  bath,  the  bath-room's  next 
door,  and  it  might  freshen  you  up 
for  the  evening?  Blossom  will  get  it 
ready,  and  you  can  pop  in  while  she's 
unpacking.  See  to  it,  Blossom. 
And  oh,  Kitty!  there's  one  thing 
more — these  roses,"  turning  to  a 
bunch  on  the  toilet-table.  "Al- 
though you  come  from  a  land  of 
roses,  I  dare  say  you  won't  despise 
them,  and  I  like  to  see  a  young  girl 
with  a  posy.  Put  them  in  your  belt 
to-night,  my  dear;  and  you'll  always 
have  a  flower  to  wear  whenever 
you're  going  out.  If  I  forget,  just 
ask  me  for  it.  There  now,"  looking 
round,  "is  that  all?" 

' '  I  should  think  it  must  be  all, ' ' 
said  Kitty,  looking  straight  at  her 
with  moist  eyes,  "because  there 


ONLY    KITTY  133 

really  isn't    anything    else    left  to 
wish  for." 

It  was  one  of  the  hottest  days  of 
the  year,  so  that  there  was  perhaps 
some  excuse  for  people  being  lan- 
guid and  peevish,  especially  people 
who  had  been  toiling  after  pleasure 
for  many  days  and  nights  together, 
and  who,  if  they  had  found  it,  were 
scarcely  inclined  to  allow  as  much. 

By  their  listless  attitudes  and  dis- 
jointed conversation — if  conversa- 
tion it  could  be  called — any  one 
could  have  told  that  it  was  a  family 
party  which  was  gathered  together, 
or,  strictly  speaking,  which  drooped 
in  company  within  the  shaded  win- 
dows of  a  small  house  in  Mayfair. 
One  by  one  they  had  strayed  in  from 
the  flowering  balcony,  vowing  that 
it  was  hotter  without  than  within; 
and  now  the  three  sisters,  Letitia, 
Maud,  and  Ethel,  fanned  themselves 
with  their  pocket-handkerchiefs,  or 


134  ONLY    KITTY 

hung  their  arms  by  their  sides,  as 
they  endeavoured  by  absolute  rest 
from  every  sort  of  exertion  to  pre- 
pare for  the  moment  when  effort 
must  again  be  made. 

Yet  no  one  suggested  the  idea  of 
abandoning  the  effort.  Of  course 
they  would  go  to  the  Embassy  Ball ; 
and  of  course  it  would  be  like  every 
other  ball,  crowded  and  gorgeous, 
and  unsatisfactory;  and  they  would 
come  away  fatigued  to  death,  and  fit 
only  to  drop  on  to  their  pillows,  and 
remain  there  till  to-morrow's  sun 
should  be  high  in  the  heavens,  mak- 
ing fresh  demands,  which  were  yet 
the  demands  of  -all  its  predecessors. 

"This  London  season  is  really  very 
hard  work,"  observed  Letitia,  at 
last,  as  sapiently  as  though  the  re- 
mark had  never  been  made  before. 
"I  am  sure  I  don't  know  how  one 
ever  lives  through  it.  If  one  could 
pick  and  choose — but  that's  just 
what  one  can't  do.  People  talk 


ONLY    KITTY  135 

about  going  out  '  a  little. '  But  who 
ever  does  go  out  'a  little'?  You  are 
either  in  if,  or  you  are  out  of  it — at 
least  that's  what  I  find." 

"It  is  certainly  better  to  be  'in  it' 
than  'out  of  it.'  "  This  was  Ethel's 
wisdom. 

"Of  course  one  could  enjoy  it 
more  if  it  could  be  taken  by  inches," 
subjoined  Maud;  "for  instance,  if 
one  could  turn  weeks  into  months 


"Oh,  I  don't  know  that  I  want 
months  of  this!"  interposed  Lady 
Latimer,  hastily,  missing  the  point. 
"I  am  always  thankful  when  the 
season  is  over,  and  the  order  is  given 
to  pack  up  and  be  off.  I  really 
think" — but  what  she  really  thought 
was  never  destined  to  be  known. 

The  door  opened. 

"Ha,  I  thought  I'd  find  you  all 
melting  away  in  here,"  quoth  Sir 
Robert,  poking  in  a  little  brisk  face. 
"Here's  Syd  saying  the  weather's 


136  ONLY    KITTY 

glorious,"  indicating  a  handsome 
sunburnt  edition  of  himself.  "Syd 
likes  the  heat, ' '  continued  little  Bob, 
dropping  into  a  chair.  "He  says  it 
makes  him  feel  more  fit  than  he  has 
done  since  he  came  home  from  the 
East." 

"I  should  not  mind  the  heat  if  I 
could  take  things  as  easily  as  Cap- 
tain Latimer  does,"  said  Maud  Mas- 
terdon,  throwing  a  half-reproachful 
glance  at  Sir  Robert's  brother.  "If 
one  could  make  up  one's  mind  to  go 
nowhere,  live  at  a  club — " 

"That's  what  he  does — lives  at  his 
club,"  dashed  in  her  brother-in-law. 
"He  is  to  be  found  standing  about  in 
that  nice  cool  hall,  morning,  noon, 
and  night.  I'm  hanged  if  he  isn't  in 
the  right  of  it  too.  It's  beastly  being 
on  the  rush  all  the  time ;  only — I  say, 
doesn't  it  get  a  bit  monotonous, 
Syd?" 

"It  does,  rather,"  said  Syd,  cheer- 
fully. 


ONLY    KITTY  137 

"Then  why  not  come  with  us 
sometimes,  Sydney?"  Here  was  a 
chance  for  which  Letitia  had  been 
longing.  "You  know  how  often  we 
have  asked  you. ' ' 

"I  know  you're  awfully  good," 
said  he. 

"But  you  won't  come,  all  the 
same." 

Then  little  Bob  laughed  aloud. 
"You  won't  catch  him,  not  you.  Do 
you  suppose  it  hasn't  been  tried 
before?  He  never  answers  his  invi- 
tations. I  believe  it's  too  much 
trouble  even  to  tear  them  up ;  they 
are  just  left  to  accumulate." 

"Oh,  he's  simply  too  fine  for  any- 
thing!" Letitia  tossed  her  head  a 
little,  whilst  her  sisters  maintained 
the  silence  of  discreet  yoiing  women 
who  feel  their  charms  unappreciated. 

' '  I  come  to  your  parties,  you  know, 
Letitia "  began  Captain  Latimer. 

"When?"  shot  like  a  cannon-ball 
from  Letitia's  lips. 


138  ONLY    KITTY 

"To  be  sure,  I  did  not  come,  but  I 
meant  to,  last  week 

"And  you  refused  my  dinner  invi- 
tation for  next. ' ' 

"That's  it!  At  him,  Letitia!" 
Sir  Robert  rubbed  his  hands  in 
glee.  "He's  too  big  a  swell  alto- 
gether. He  always  was  too  grand 
for  me;  and  I  believe  he  never 
would  come  near  the  house,  if  I 
didn't  go  myself  and  hook  him  right 
out  of  that  old  club  door."  As  he 
spoke  he  made  an  affectionate 
grimace  which  betokened  a  perfect 
understanding  between  the  brothers. 
"He  only  came  now  because  he 
wants  to  know  if  I  may  go  with  him 
to-night,"  concluded  the  speaker. 

"To-night?  Go  with  him  to- 
night?" Letitia  sat  bolt  upright  in 
an  instant.  Her  husband  go  with 
his  brother,  instead  of  his  brother 
going  with  them  all!  And  she 
would  have  been  so  particularly 
pleased  to  take  Captain  Sydney  Lati- 


ONLY    KITTY  139 

mer  to  the  Embassy  Ball,  for  which 
he  had  his  own  invitation,  and 
where,  if  he  did  not  know  more 
people  than  she  herself  did,  he  would 
be  welcomed  by  some  of  high  im- 
portance, and  would  be  intimate 
with  several  to  whom  an  introduc- 
tion might  be  useful.  She  was  now 
really  vexed  as  well  as  alarmed. 

"Bob  told  me  he  was  going  with 
you  to  a  ball,"  said  Captain  Lati- 
mer,  patting  on  the  head  a  little  dog 
which  had  run  up  to  him.  "Balls 
aren't  much  sport,  at  least  to  a  man 
who  doesn't  dance.  I  am  going  to  a 
play — no,  I  believe  it  ought  not  to 
be  called  a  play;  it's  an  'Entertain- 
ment,' that's  the  dodge;  but  all  the 
same,  I  hear  it  is  awfully  funny,  and 
I  want  to  see  Corney  Grain  in  it.  I 
hear  he  is  awfully  good  in  his  new 
piece " 

"Corney  Grain!"  exclaimed  three 
pairs  of  lips  at  once.  "Why,  that  is 
at  the  German  Reeds!"  appended 


140  ONLY    KITTY 

Lady  Latimer,  almost  in  a  whisper. 
Then  she  turned  upon  her  husband 
such  a  face  of  blank  consternation  as 
made  him  leap  into  the  air  and  wring 
his  hands  in  ecstasy. 

"It  is  the  German  Reeds,  by 
Jove!"  he  cried.  "The  murder's 
out,  by  Jove!  I  thought  it  would 
nearly  kill  'em!"  to  his  brother. 
Then  to  his  wife :  ' '  He  won't  go  near 
your  Embassy  Ball.  He  won't  go  to 
any  of  the  first  parties  in  London. 
He  can  hardly  be  got  even  for  a  din- 
ner, and  even  by  his  best  friends, — 
and  here  he  has  set  his  heart  on 
going  to  laugh  at  the  most  squalid 
show  in  the  whole  place,  and  wants 
me  to  go  with  him ;  and,  by  Jove !  T 
am  going  too!" 

The  ladies  sat  absolutely  mute. 

"I'll  do  my  level  best  to  bring  him 
on  to  the  ball  afterwards, "  proceeded 
little  Bob,  anxiously. 

"We  ought  to  be  much  honoured," 
replied  his  wife,  dropping  her  eyelids. 


ONLY    KITTY  141 

But  the  shot  told.  She  made  no 
further  opposition;  and  Sir  Rob- 
ert, saying  he  would  not  be  ten  min- 
utes dressing,  flew  upstairs  three 
steps  at  a  time;  while  Captain  Lati- 
mer  explained  that  it  had  been 
arranged  that  the  two  were  to  dine 
together  at  his  much-reviled  club,  in 
order  that  the  early  hour  at  which 
the  "squalid  show"  commenced 
might  not  inconvenience  the  Mayfair 
household. 

As  it  was,  the  two  arrived  late  at 
the  entertainment  for  which  they 
were  bound ;  and  the  piece  was  in  full 
swing  as  they  took  their  seats  in  the 
somewhat  dingy  hall,  full  in  every 
part,  and  proportionately  warm. 
The  audience  was  not  a  smart  one, 
and  Kitty  Masterdon  had  her  eye  in 
a  moment  on  the  two  figures  who 
seated  themselves  in  the  vacant 
places  on  the  other  side  of  the  aisle, 
within  a  few  feet  of  where  she  and 
Mrs.  Benetfink  were  enjoying  them- 


142  ONLY    KITTY 

selves  to  their  hearts'  content. 
"Two  swells,"  said  Kitty  to  herself, 
— then  the  next  moment:  "Oh,  I 
say,  one  is  Bob!"  She  could  not 
have  been  more  surprised  if  Bob  had 
walked  into  the  drawing-room  in 
Gordon  Square. 

"That  is  Bob,"  she  repeated, 
watching  the  two  with  interested 
eyes,  "and  that  other  thing's  his 
brother  that  Letitia  thinks  so  much 
of.  Well,  now,  this  is  a  joke!  They 
will  never  see  me — the  brother 
would  never  know  me  if  he  did — • 
and  I  shall  tell  Maud  and  Ethel 
afterwards  that  my  places  cannot  be 
so  vulgar  after  all,  when  this  grand 
Captain  Latimer  thinks  them  worth 
coming  to;"  and  she  chuckled  with 
renewed  delight.  "He  looks  quite 
festive,"  she  proceeded,  presently, 
"and  there  is  Bob  laughing  like  any- 
thing! Whenever  there  is  anything 
very  good,  wre  shall  all  laugh  to- 
gether, and  nobody  be  any  the 


ONLY    KITTY  143 

wiser!"  She  then  gave  herself  up 
to  the  play. 

"There's  a  little  girl  over  there 
enjoying  herself  hugely,"  thought 
Captain  Latimer,  and  he  could  not 
resist  looking  round  once  or  twice 
when  an  infectious  trill  of  merriment 
from  the  other  side  of  the  aisle  broke 
upon  his  ear.  Kitty  had  a  charming 
laugh. 

Kitty  had  on  her  new  rose-coloured 
dress,  which  matched  exactly  the 
bright  tint  in  her  cheeks,  and  en- 
hanced the  blue  of  her  limpid  eyes 
and  the  gold  of  her  overflowing 
hair.  She  looked  what  she  was — a 
lovely,  happy  young  girl,  without  a 
care  in  the  world,  without  a  thought 
which  could  not  be  laid  bare  to  every 
eye. 

So  radiant,  so  animated,  so  full 
of  sparkling  life  and  vivacity  did 
she  seem,  that  it  was  hardly  to  be 
wondered  at  if  even  amongst  a 
crowd  of  other  youthful  faces  hers 


144  ONLY    KITTY 

seemed  to  stand  out  pre-eminently, 
especially  when  viewed  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  benevolent  glances  of 
a  silvery-haired  old  lady  who.  obvi- 
ously regarded  her  charge  with  more 
than  favour.  At  length  it  came  to 
this,  that  there  was  quite  a  little  ring 
formed  as  it  were  involuntarily,  of 
which  Kitty  was  the  centre,  who  all 
looked  to  her,  and  laughed  and 
applauded  whenever  anything  spe- 
cially droll  on  the  stage  made  them 
sure  of  the  joyous  response  it  would 
call  forth. 

"By  Jove!  she  has  the  jolliest 
little  laugh  I  ever  heard!"  And 
Captain  Latimer  began  quite  to 
listen  for  the  laugh. 

But  he  did  not  tell  Bob  about  it; 
and  Bob,  who  was  entirely  occupied 
with  what  was  going  forward,  drink- 
ing it  all  in  as  though  the  wit  \vere 
the  most  wonderful  and  the  comedy 
the  most  absorbing  to  which  he  had 
ever  hearkened,  missed  the  by-play. 


ONLY    KITTY  145 

"Bob's  all  right,"  Kitty  told  her- 
self. "Good  little  Bob;  he  will 
never  see  me  across  that  big  brother 
of  his.  Sydney  must  be  nearly  a 
foot  taller,  and  he's  ever  so  much 
better-looking.  What  fun  it  is !  We 
must  get  away  as  quick  as  we  can 
when  it  is  over,  though,  or  I  should 
never  hear  the  last  of  it  from  the 
girls."  (Kitty  was  wont  to  desig- 
nate her  august  sisters  as  "the  girls" 
in  internal  colloquy,  her  reverence 
for  them  and  their  opinions  being 
only  skin-deep.) 

She  rather  surprised  Mrs.  Benet- 
fink  now  by  the  precipitation  with 
which  she  sprang  to  her  feet  almost 
before  the  curtain  fell,  and  the 
urgency  with  which  she  caught  up 
her  own  wrap,  and  whirled  the  old 
lady's  round  her  shoulders. 

"There's  no  hurry,  my  dear;"  but 
Kitty  could  not  be  made  to  under- 
stand that  there  was  no  hurry.  She 
was  halfway  down  the  aisle  before 


1 46  ONLYKITTY 

her  good-humoured  chaperon  was 
well  out  of  her  chair,  and  in  her 
heart  was  saying:  "She  can  catch 
me  lip  outside;  I  sha'n't  go  beyond 
the  hall.  I  can  sneak  behind  the 
people  there,  and  watch  my  two 
swells  go  by ;  then  I  can  pounce  on 
Mrs.  Benetfink,  and  we'll  toddle 
merrily  home  together." 

But  there  was  destined  to  be  a 
hitch  in  the  programme.  Within 
the  next  few  minutes  there  was  a 
disturbance  in  the  outer  hall  which 
somewhat  blocked  the  exit  of  those 
within. 

"What  a  jolly  long  time  it  takes  to 
empty  this  place!"  exclaimed  Cap- 
tain Latimer  to  his  brother,  as  the 
two  leisurely  strolled  down,  staring 
about  them,  and  passing  here  and 
there  a  comment.  "Rum  place, 
isn't  it?  Looks  a  bit  dusty.  One 
would  think  it  paid  well  enough  to 
be  kept  in  better  repair.  And  they 
might  open  a  few  more  doors, 


ONLY    KITTY  147 

and    not  keep  us  all  night  getting 
out." 

"They  are  saying  somebody's  met 
with  an  accident  outside,"  replied 
his  brother.  "Some  woman  has 
fallen  down,  and  hurt  herself. 
Hallo!  Who's  here?"  as  the  figure 
of  a  young  girl,  by  this  time  quite 
familiar  to  Captain  Latimer,  pressed 
its  way  back  through  the  out-stream- 
ing current,  and  to  the  latter's 
amazement  the  voice  which  he  had 
heard  rippling  so  merrily  throughout 
the  evening,  now  in  piteous  accents 
accosted  his  brother,  and  that  by  the 
familiar  appellation  of  "Bob." 

'Why,  Kitty!"  exclaimed  Bob. 
"Why — what  on  earth? — I  did  not 
know  you  were  in  town !  It  is  my 
sister-in-law,"  in  explanation  aside. 
"Kitty,  this  is  my  brother  Sydney — " 

"Oh,  yes!"  Kitty  disposed  of  the 
introduction  with  a  nod,  having  no 
time  to  think  about  it.  "Oh,  Bob, 
do  come!"  seizing  him  by  the  hand. 


148  ONLY    KITTY 

"Come  quickly  and  help  me;  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  Mrs.  Benetfink 
has  fallen  and  hurt  her  ankle — she 
was  hurrying  after  me — there  was 
such  a  crowd,  she  didn't  see  the  step, 
and  now  I  can't  find  the  footman, 
and — and  I  don't  know  what  to 

do "  almost  crying. 

"All  right— all  right,"  said  Bob, 
soothingly;  "you  tell  Mrs.  Benetfink 
who  I  am,  and  I  will  take  care  of 
her;  and  Syd  will  find  the  footman. 
Is  that  the  old  lady?"  in  a  lower 
tone,  as  they  came  up  with  a  little 
sympathising  group  of  which  the 
hapless  Mrs.  Benetfink  was  the 
object.  "Sorry  to  hear  you  have 
had  a  fall,  ma'am.  Pray  let  me  see 
you  to  your  carriage."  In  a 
moment  Sir  Robert  Latimer  stared 
away  all  intruders  and  took  posses- 
sion of  the  situation ;  and  presently 
— but  we  really  have  no  time  to  tell 
how  it  all  happened — Kitty  found 
herself  seated  opposite  the  poor  old 


ONLY    KITTY  149 

lady,  her  momentary  trouble  over, 
but  with,  alas!  a  black  outlook  for 
the  future.  Her  kind  friend  was  in 
great  pain,  and  there  was  no  doubt 
that  the  fall  had  been  a  serious  one. 
A  doctor  must  instantly  be  sum- 
moned. 

"You  must  let  me  see  you  home," 
said  Sir  Robert,  seating  himself  by 
Kitty's  side.  uAnd  Syd  will  go  for 
the  doctor  if  you  will  tell  him 
where." 

"No,  indeed,  there's  Andrew," 
gasped  Andrew's  mistress,  strug- 
gling with  herself.  "Andrew  knows 
— where — to  go;"  her  eyes  closing, 
as  she  could  with  difficulty  articulate 
the  last  words. 

"Go  at  once  then,"  supplemented 
Sir  Robert,  turning  to  the  said 
Andrew.  "You  know  the  doctor's 
house.  Bring  him  back  with  you 
then;  bring  somebody,  anyway. 
Don't  you  be  alarmed,  Kitty,"  turn- 
ing to  her;  "I'm  here  to  stand  by 


150  ONLY    KITTY 

you,  and  I  will  see  you  through.  I 
say,  what  is  Syd  doing?"  turning 
round  to  look. 

Captain  Latimer  was  mounting 
the  box  seat,  the  footman  having 
already  hailed  a  hansom,  in  which  he 
was  driving  off. 

"Well,  that's  cool,"  murmured 
Bob.  Then  in  a  lower  aside:  "But, 
I  suppose,  she  won't  mind,"  nodding 
opposite.  "We  will  just  come  to  the 
house,  and  help  you  to  get  her  out. 
It  is  all  right,  Kitty,"  he  added, 
after  a  pause,  for  he  saw  that  Kitty 
could  hardly  speak. 

Although  Mrs.  Benetfink  remained 
to  all  appearance  almost  insensible 
to  the  night's  proceedings,  she  was 
wont  to  recur  to  them  afterwards  in 
a  manner  that  showed  she  was  by 
no  means  so  oblivious  as  was  sup- 
posed. 

"I  could  not  speak,"  she  would 
aver,  "and  I  was  very  bad,  but  I 
was  not  so  bad  as  to  be  quite  knocked 


ONLY    KITTY  151 

stupid.  I  knew  well  enough  that  I 
had  two  fine  young  men  to  look  after 
me,  and  to  help  me  up  my  own 
steps,  and  even  to  my  own  room — 
with  Joseph's  assisting,  of  course; 
and  as  for  that  husband  of  Letitia's 
I  declare  I  could  have  kissed  his 
honest  face,  he  looked  so  "much  con- 
cerned, and  as  if  he  could  have  cried 
too  whenever  I  cried  out.  And 
there  he  sat  with  me,  hand  in  hand, 
till  the  doctor  came,  insisting  upon 
it  that  Kitty  was  too  young,  and  that 
she  had  much  better  be  out  of  the 
room  till  I  was  more  myself.  And  I 
do  think  a  dearer  man  there  never 
lived.  And  what  Kitty  would  do 
now  without  him,  I  don't  know." 

The  latter  remark  had  reference  to 
the  black  outlook  which,  it  has  been 
hinted,  loomed  before  the  hapless 
Kitty's  vision  directly  her  immediate 
anxieties  were  over,  and  the  nature 
of  the  accident  ascertained. 

"Yes,  I  am  afraid  it's  all  up  with 


152  ONLY    KITTY 

you,  Kitty."  Sir  Robert  shook  his 
head  after  hearing  the  doctor's  ver- 
dict. "No  more  larks  going  in  this 
house.  Now,  I  tell  you  what  you 
will  do.  You  will  come  straight  off 
to  us  to-morrow.  Letitia  shall  fetch 
you " 

Kitty's  eyes  opened,  and  her  lips 
parted. 

"That  will  make  it  all  right,  won't 
it?"  said  Bob,  kindly.  And  he  pro- 
ceeded to  dilate. 

"Stop,"  said  Kitty,  suddenly. 
"Don't  ask  me;  don't  say  another 
word;  it's  awfully  kind  of  you,  and 
you  know  how  I  should  like  it — but 
it  would  look — oh,  you  know  what  it 
would  look  like!  She's  the  dearest 
and  the  kindest — and  to  have  me  go 
and  leave  her  the  moment  she  can't 
take  me  about  to  things,  as  if  I  cared 

for  nothing  else "  she  broke  off 

with  a  little  sob.  "Don't  you  think 
anything  more  about  me,  Bob.  I 
shall  be  quite  happy  here.  I  am 


ONLY    KITTY  IS3 

going  to  show  Mrs.  Benetfink  that  I 
love  her  for  herself — and ' ' 

"And  I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said 
Bob,  suddenly  stepping  forward,  and 
seizing  her  hand  in  both  of  his. 
"You're  a  thundering  good  little  girl 
— that's  what  you  are;  and  I  sha'n't 
say  another  word  to  tempt  you 
away.  You're  quite  right  not  to 
desert  the  old  lady.  Upon  my  word, 
I  am  proud  of  you.  And  I  tell  you 
what,  Kitty;  I  will  come  every  sin- 
gle day,  and  take  you  to  every 
single  place  that  Mrs.  Benetfink  had 
promised  you' ' — (for  confidences 
had  passed  by  this  time);  "she 
won't  mind  my  doing  that,  will 
she?" 

"Oh,  no!"  Kitty  was  joyfully 
sure  that,  so  far  from  minding,  noth- 
ing would  please  Mrs.  Benetfink 
better. 

"Well,  then,  I'll  come,"  said  Bob; 
"and  I  can  come  in  and  see  her  and 
tell  her  the  news,  and  Letitia  shall 


154  ONLY    KITTY 

call.  Why  she  hasn't  called  already 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I  don't 
understand  these  things.  But  now, 
where  shall  we  go  to-morrow?" 

"We  were  going,"  said  Kitty, 
glancing  at  him,  "to  the  Crystal 
Palace. ' ' 

"The  Crystal  Palace!"  cried  Sir 
Robert,  "the  very  thing!  I  haven't 
been  to  the  Crystal  Palace  since  I 
was  in  petticoats.  What  time  were 
you  going?" 

' '  We  had  been  going, ' '  said  Kitty, 
with  the  same  dubious  emphasis, 
"about  three  o'clock.  We  were  to 
drive  down  and  have  tea,  and  then 
go  to  things;  and  have  dinner,  and 
go  to  things  again ;  and  drive  back 
after  the  fireworks.  To-morrow  is  a 
firework  night,  and  poor  Mrs.  Benet- 
fink  and  I  did  want  so  dreadfully 
to  go!" 

"I  am  sorry  for  Mrs.  Benetfink, " 
said  Bob,  pleasantly;  "but  anyhow, 
you  and  I  will  go  and  enjoy  our- 


ONLY    KITTY  155 

selves.  May  I  borrow  your  phaeton, 
Syd?" 

"I  want  it  for  myself,"  said  Syd, 
"if  this  young  lady  will  give  me  the 
pleasure  of  driving  her." 

And  now  began  the  most  wonder- 
ful period  of  Kitty's  life.  She  had 
been  so  happy  before,  so  content 
with  all  the  simple  pleasures  pro- 
vided for  her,  so  grateful  for  all  the 
loving  kindness  lavished  upon  her, 
that  it  might  have  seemed  as  though 
there  were  hardly  any  room  left  in 
her  heart  for  further  emotions  of  a 
like  nature.  But  somehow  it  was  a 
different  thing  to  dash  off  from  her 
own  door  in  an  elegant  park  phaeton, 
behind  a  pair  of  high-stepping 
horses,  who  never  seemed  to  need 
more  than  an  infinitesimal  share  of 
their  master's  attention,  from  rolling 
solemnly  away  within  a  large  landau 
with  only  an  old  lady,  however 
cheerful  and  amiable,  as  her  com- 
panion on  the  jaunt.  It  was  a  new 


156  ONLY    KITTY 

and  exhilarating  experience  to  be 
escorted  hither  and  thither  by  two 
smart  men,  who  were  yet  not  "smart" 
in  any  way  that  would  have  lessened 
them  in  her  estimation,  or  detracted 
from  her  comfort. 

Letitia  thought  that  as  it  was 
"only  Kitty,"  she  need  not  put  her- 
self out  to  combat  Sir  Robert's  whim 
of  making  up  to  his  young  sister-in- 
law  for  the  loss  she  had  sustained.  If 
Kitty  liked  to  go  with  Bob,  and  Bob 
chose  to  take  her,  and  Sydney  Lati- 
mer  chose  to  be  of  the  party,  there 
was  really  no  harm  in  it.  Kitty  did 
not  require  to  be  chaperoned  as  yet, 
and  though,  as  it  was  "only  Kitty," 
it  hardly  mattered  that  she  had  been 
unearthed  in  her  present  "impos- 
sible" quarters,  whose  very  impossi- 
bility roused  Captain  Latimer's  com- 
passion, still  the  very  fact  of  its  being 
"only  Kitty"  made  it  too  certain 
that  the  feeling  was  compassion — 
nothing  more. 


ONLY    KITTY  157 

This  was  Letitia's  view  of  the 
case. 

But  Letitia  did  not  know  every- 
thing. She  did  not  know,  for 
instance,  that  the  leafy  garden  within 
the  quaint  old  square  was  a  pleasant 
place  to  sit  in  on  a  summer  after- 
noon, and  that  a  cheery  little  party 
often  camped  out  there  for  hours 
together,  of  whom  one  would  be  an 
old  lady  in  an  invalid  chair,  one  a 
fair  girl  in  the  first  flush  of  youth, 
and  another  a  tawny- visaged  soldier, 
whose  mission  it  seemed  to  be  to 
entertain  and  interest  them  both. 
Sometimes  the  whole  afternoon 
would  pass  away  thus. 

On  other  occasions  the  trio  would 
await  the  arrival  of  a  fourth,  prepar- 
atory to  one  of  the  excursions  prom- 
ised by  Sir  Robert,  which  he  now 
showed  an  unexpected  and  most 
ingenious  fertility  in  devising.  Late 
though  Bob  would  always  be,  no  one 
would  ever  express  the  slightest 


158  ONLY    KITTY 

impatience  at  his  unpunctuality. 
Captain  Latimer's  phaeton  would 
crawl  round  and  round  the  square, 
or  draw  up  beneath  the  rustling 
shade  of  overhanging  boughs,  until 
horses  and  men  alike  grew  drowsy 
"twixt  heat  and  inactivity, — but  Syd 
himself  was  having  a  good  time  on 
the  other  side  of  the  railings. 

He  always  came  first,  and  came 
by  himself ;  he  had  invariably  some 
good  reason  to  give  for  doing  so. 
His  brother  had  so  many  engage- 
ments, whereas  he  had  none.  Bob 
was  "rushed"  from  morning  to  night 
in  the  season;  for  his  part,  he  liked 
to  take  things  easy.  It  was  so  jolly 
sitting  still,  and  it  would  be  cooler 
driving  by-and-by  when  the  sun  had 
begun  to  go  down  a  little.  As  for 
his  horses,  they  were  better  standing 
out  under  the  trees  than  in  their  own 
stuffy  stable.  He  hoped  Mrs. 
Benetfink  did  not  think  him  a  nui- 
sance for  coming  before  the  time, 


ONLY    KITTY  159 

but  it  was  really  so — so  jolly  sitting 
there.  Evidently  there  was  no  other 
excuse  to  offer. 

Of  all  this,  Letitia,  as  we  say,  knew 
nothing.  Neither  did  any  of  them 
know  that  when  chirpy  little  Sir 
Robert  perched  himself  on  the  back 
seat  of  the  phaeton  and  smoked 
cigar  upon  cigar  as  he  was  trotted 
down  to  Kew,  or  Richmond,  or 
Kingston  Hill — anywhere  and  every- 
where that  Kitty  had  a  mind  to  go 
— he  was  saying  to  himself  that 
playing  gooseberry  was  by  no  means 
such  bad  fun  as  people  made  out. 
Kitty  was  "only  a  child,"  was  she? 
All  right.  Sydney  was  "never 
thinking  of  her,"  was  he  not?  All 
right.  It  was  satisfactory  to  have 
those  beliefs  prevail  in  his  own 
home ;  they  kept  everything  smooth 
there,  while  permitting  him  a  free 
hand. 

And  he  meant  to  have  a  free  hand 
whether  permitted  or  not.  ' '  Syd  is 


160  ONLY    KITTY 

a  queer  fellow,"  he  nodded  to  him- 
self, "and  you  have  got  to  go  his 
way,  not  expect  him  to  go  yours. 
Letitia  wanted  him  for  one  of  her 
sisters,"  with  a  grin;  "but,  by 
Jove!  she  will  nearly  have  a  fit 
when,  after  going  through  half  the 
women  she  knows,  she  learns  that  it 
is  only  Kitty!" 

Accordingly  little  Bob  kept  his 
secret  close,  and  permitted  not  the 
faintest  suspicion  of  it  to  leak  out. 
Indeed,  at  this  juncture  he  exhibited 
a  cleverness  unknown  before;  and 
Letitia,  as  well  as  her  sisters,  grew 
to  think  that  there  was  something 
almost  babyish  in  Kitty's  silly  de- 
mands upon  her  too  good-natured 
brother-in-law. 

"I  really  should  not  give  in  to  her 
as  you  do,"  Lady  Latimer  would 
exclaim  now  and  again;  "you  quite 
spoil  that  child. ' ' 

Maud  and  Ethel  had  proposed 
Kitty's  returning  home,  but  Bob 


ONLY    KITTY  l6l 

stoutly  combated  the  idea;  and  cer- 
tainly when  Kitty  came  to  South 
Street  there  was  no  shadow  upon 
her  bright  face,  and  nothing  to  indi- 
cate that  all  was  not  going  well  with 
her  in  spite  of  the  misadventure  of 
her  hostess. 

Every  one  in  South  Street  was  too 
busy  to  see  much  of  Kitty — which 
was  perhaps  as  well,  all  things  con- 
sidered— but  Bob  gravely  assured 
them  he  was  doing  the  best  he  could 
for  her,  and  happily  no  one  ever 
inquired  minutely  into  what  that 
"best"  was.  "They  think  that  Syd 
still  stands  all  day  long  in  the  hall 
of  that  old  club, ''  chuckled  Sir  Rob- 
ert to  himself,  "and  I  don't  see  that 
it's  my  business  to  peach.  Of  course 
I  could  not  take  a  full-blown  young 
lady  about  like  this ;  but  Letitia  says 
herself  it  is  'only  Kitty,'  and  I  sup- 
pose I  am  about  equal  to  managing 
Kitty's  affairs.  They  shall  not  be 
botched  by  interference  anyway." 


162  ONLY    KITTY 

Never  in  his  life  had  he  enjoyed 
himself  so  much.  He  and  Sydney 
took  Kitty  up  the  river,  and  gave  her 
tea  in  the  gardens  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned inn  beneath  the  Clieveden 
Woods,  Sir  Robert  going  off  for  a 
stroll  by  himself  before  the  party 
took  to  the  water  again.  He 
escorted  her  over  Hampton  Court, 
and  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  find 
that  she  and  Syd  missed  him  from 
among  the  sightseers  in  the  great 
tapestry  hall,  and  went  to  look  for 
him  down  by  the  water-lily  pond. 
He  piloted  his  inquisitive  young 
sister-in-law  down  to  Gravesend  to 
lunch  on  board  an  ocean  "liner," 
and  thought  the  expedition  quite 
one  to  suit  Syd;  indeed,  considered 
it  the  most  natural  thing  imaginable 
that  his  brother  should  find  the  ves- 
sel and  its  equipment  so  interesting, 
and  such  a  novelty  (although  Captain 
Latimer  had  sailed  to  every  quarter 
of  the  globe),  that  he  must  needs  fol- 


ONLY    KITTY  163 

low  Kitty  up  and  down  and  round 
and  round,  from  the  captain's  cabin 
to  the  engineer's  gangway.  "I  am 
about  running  dry  now,"  he  told 
himself,  however,  at  the  close  of  this 
last  excursion.  "By  Jove!  I  can't 
think  of  much  more,"  shaking  his 
head  wisely. 

He  took  his  brother  into  confidence 
as  they  trotted  home  from  Gordon 
Square  in  a  hansom. 

"I  think  I  have  done  pretty  well 
for  you,  Syd.  Don't  you  think  that 
n  o  w — h  urn — ah ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I  do  think  that  now — hum 
—  ah — ";  retorted  Syd,  frankly. 
"To-morrow  is  Sunday,  you  know. 
You  need  not  come  along  this 
way  on  Sunday,"  pointing  back- 
wards with  his  thumb,  "but  I  will 
look  you  up  in  the  evening.  Shall 
you  be  in  about — say  eight  o'clock?" 

About  eight  o'clock  Sir  Robert 
was  pacing  his  front  drawing-room 
restlessly  to  and  fro,  and  absolutely 


164  ONLY    KITTY 

refusing  to  go  in  to  dinner,  alleging 
that  Sunday  evening  dinner  could 
surely  wait  five  minutes  when  a  man 
was  expecting  his  brother,  and  when 
no  one  was  particularly  hungry  for  it. 

"You  are  generally  hungry 
enough,"  said  Letitia. 

"Well,  I  am  not  to-night,"  said 
Bob. 

The  next  moment  he  had  his  head 
out  of  the  window,  and,  with  a  cry 
that  was  almost  a  whoop  of  exulta- 
tion, dashed  down  the  staircase  be- 
fore the  door-bell  rang. 

"There  is  Syd,  and — and — a  lady 
with  him ! "  he  flung  back  as  he  dis- 
appeared through  the  doorway. 

"A  lady?  Who  can  it  be?" 
Letitia  looked  round  at  the  other 
two.  "Bob  seems  quite  excited. 
What  a  noise  he  is  making  in  the 
hall!  Is  he  going  to  bring  them  up? 
Or  shall  we  go  down,  and. take  them 
into  the  dining-room?  What  can  be 
the  meaning  of  all  that  noise?"  as 


ONLY    KITTY  165 

voices  and  laughter  in  joyous  con- 
fusion grew  more  and  more  distinctly 
audible  above  stairs,  the  door  having 
been  left  ajar  by  Sir  Robert  in  his 
flight. 

"They  are  coming  up,  I  think," 
said  Maud,  listening;  and  she  and 
Ethel  glanced  at  each  other.  They 
thought  they  were  prepared  for  what 
was  to  follow,  and  guessed  what 
would  be  expected  of  them  when 
Captain  Sydney  Latimer  should  be 
ushered  in,  and  present  the  lady 
whose  arrival  had  caused  such  a 
commotion.  They  were  ready  with 
the  best  smiles  they  could  muster, 
when  a  swift  patter  of  steps  was 
heard  upon  the  staircase,  and  were 
almost  disappointed  when  the  light 
form  which  darted  in,  all  smiles, 
tears,  and  incoherence  —  all  em- 
braces, excuses,  and  extravagances — 
proved  to  be  that  of — only  Kitty ! 

Had  Kitty  gone  crazed?  What 
was  there  to  kiss,  and  hug,  and  cry 


166  ONLY    KITTY 

about?  What  had  happened?  What 
was — what  could  be — the  meaning 
of  it  all? 

If  it  had  been  any  one  else! 
But—  "But,  by  Jove!  I  thought 
it  would  make  you  sit  up!"  cried 
little  Bob,  almost  beside  himself 
with  excitement.  "I  knew  how 
you'd  feel!  It  is  'only  Kitty,'  is  it? 
Ask  this  fellow  here,"  pushing  Cap- 
tain Latimer  forward,  "what  he  has 
to  say  to  that.  He  doesn't  say  'only 
Kitty,'  I  can  tell  you.  He — oh,  I 
say,  Letitia, "  all  in  a  moment  the 
speaker's  face  changed,  his  eyelids 
fell,  a  contrite  seriousness  over- 
spread his  whole  countenance,  "I 
am  so  sorry  I  kept  dinner  waiting 
for  only  Kitty,"  he  sighed,  peni- 
tently. 


A  Terrible  Moment 


"Great  floods  have  flown  from  simple 
sources." 

—All's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 


Lina  sat  frowning  over  her  house- 
books.  Who  does  not  frown  over 
house-books?  Who  does  not  know 
the  look  of  the  hateful  little  pile, 
always  neatly  adjusted,  with  the 
red-glazed,  gilt-lettered  one  —  the 
bctc  noire  of  the  whole  collection  — 
the  butcher's  book,  lying  blatantly 
on  the  top?  Why  is  it  always  in  the 
front,  leading,  as  it  were,  its 
minions  in  the  rear?  Let  house- 
keepers say. 

Poor  little  Caroline  Lambert  was 
not  much  of  a  housekeeper;  indeed, 
nature  never  designed  her  for  a 
169 


1 70         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

housekeeper  at  all.  But  when  her 
mother  died,  and  Lina  had  been 
taken  into  confidence  about  the  fam- 
ily affairs — that  is,  had  been  openly 
confided  in,  for  from  earliest  child- 
hood she  had  silently  understood 
many  things  which  had  sobered  gay 
insouciance — she  had  taken  a  great 
resolve:  she  was  going  to  fight  the 
world  as  her  poor,  brave,  gentle  par- 
ent had  done,  and  be  the  real,  though 
unacknowledged  head  of  her  father's 
house. 

The  world  with  her — the  world 
which  had  to  be  fought  and  con- 
quered— resolved  itself  mainly  into 
the  detestable  above-mentioned 
house-books ;  they  lay  at  the  root  of 
the  thoughtful  brow,  the  too-serious 
eye,  and  the  somewhat  sad  expres- 
sion of  a  little  mouth  which  seemed 
as  though  it  had  been  formed  only 
to  smile  or  pout. 

Lina  was  a  very  pretty  girl,  and 
knew  it — knew  also  that  it  was  not 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         171 

only  the  bereavement  she  had  sus- 
tained which  debarred  her  from  the 
triumphs  and  enjoyments  of  fair 
girlhood.  She  had  learnt  even  be- 
fore the  days  of  mourning  that  many 
an  invitation  had  to  be  refused,  and 
many  a  brilliant  scene  foregone 
which  would  have  cost  money;  and 
that  although  she  lived  in  a  fairly 
good  house,  and  what  would  have 
been  called  comfortable  circum- 
stances, there  was  always  an  under- 
lying current  running  dead  against 
her  and  hers,  which  had  to  be 
stemmed  as  she  and  they  might. 

For  prudence'  sake  appearances 
had  to  be  maintained ;  Mr.  Lambert 
argued  that  nothing  would  have  a 
more  fatal  effect  on  his  professional 
career,  nothing  make  clients  more 
shy  of  putting  their  affairs  into  his 
hands  than  the  fact  of  his  having  to 
move  into  a  cheaper  residence  in  a 
humbler  part  of  London.  He  must 
preserve  a  decent  exterior ;  he  must 


172          A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

affect  to  be  doing  well;  now  and 
again  he  must  entertain.  It  was  a 
cruel  necessity,  but  the  tide  would 
turn  some  day ;  and  if  they  could  but 
manage  to  keep  their  heads  above 
water  for  the  present,  a  time  would 
come  when  they  should  swim  easily 
upon  the  surface. 

' '  But,  oh !  it  is  so  long  in  coming, ' ' 
sighed  his  young  daughter  to  herself 
on  the  grim  November  afternoon, 
when  she  sat  down  to  her  weekly 
task  with  the  house-books  on  her  lap. 

She  had  just  finished,  and  finished 
with  a  sigh,  and  was  sitting  looking 
before  her  with  the  dull  dejection  of 
spirit  the  occupation  seldom  failed  to 
produce,  when  the  door  burst  open, 
and  swift  as  thought  the  little  heap 
was  thrown  into  a  work-basket  by 
her  side,  and  concealed  beneath  an 
embroidered  coverlet.  She  would 
not  vex  her  father  by  the  sight. 

It  was  not,  however,  Mr.  Lambert 
who  had  returned  before  his  time ;  it 


A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT         173 

was  two  little  rosy,  chubby,  merry 
creatures  who  precipitated  them- 
selves on  to  their  sister's  vacant  lap 
without  dreaming  that  it  had  been 
previously  occupied  by  intruders  less 
welcome  than  themselves. 

"Are  you  alone?  We  thought  you 
would  be  alone,"  cried  little  Gladys, 
bustling  up;  "and  nurse  said  we 
might  come  if  there  was  nobody 
here. ' ' 

"Nurse  only  said  we  were  to  come 
if  you  wanted  us,"  corrected  the 
elder,  (she  was  only  seven,  while 
Gladys  was  but  four);  "but  we 
thought  you  would  be  sure  to  want 
us,  if  there  were  no  nasty  people 
here."  And  she  mounted  on 
Lina's  other  knee  with  the  confi- 
dence of  proprietorship.  The  elder 
sister  put  an  arm  round  each. 

"And  we  do  so  want  to  tell  you 
what  we  have  been  talking  about, ' ' 
the  little  one  struck  in  again;  "it 
was  about  shoes.  Nurse  says  we 


174         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

really  must  have  shoes;"  sitting 
upright  in  order  to  be  still  more 
impressive  and  important.  "She 
says  we  really  must;  because,  you 
see,  the  Christmas  parties  will^  be 
coming  on,  and  our  old  shoes  will 
hardly  hold  together,"  unbuttoning 
with  eager  satisfaction  a  little  squat 
strap-shoe,  and  looking  at  it  fondly, 
as  though  its  state  of  dilapidation 
were  creditable  and  endearing. 

"Mine  are  as  bad,  and  they  have 
been  patched  over  and  over  again," 
said  Florence,  taking  her  sister's  face 
between  her  hands  to  make  sure  of 
attention  and  sympathy.  "Nurse 
says  the  shoemaker  won't  undertake 
to  do  them  any  more.  He  says  it's 
no  use  wasting  more  work  upon 
them,  for  they're  not  worth  it. 
That's  what  he  says;  and  nurse  says 
she  can't  mend  them  herself,  for 
there's  just  one  thing  she  can't  man- 
age, and  that  is  boots  and  shoes. 
She  can  make  everything  else." 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         175 

"And  she  is  going  to  make  us  the 
most  beautiful  frocks  out  of  mother's 
old  white  petticoat."  Gladys 
caressed  her  shoe,  her  blue  eyes 
beaming. 

"Oh,  hush!"  Florence  looked 
shocked,  and  glanced  apprehensively 
at  her  sister.  "Nurse  wouldn't  like 
you  to  speak  like  that,  Gladdie," 
remonstrated  she,  shaking  her 
severe  head.  "It's  only  that  Glad- 
die's  so  little,  you  know,"  she 
added,  feeling  all  the  weight  of  her 
maturer  years.  "/  knew  whose 
petticoat  it  was,  because  it  came  out 
of  the  big  wardrobe  drawer,  and  / 
never  said  anything."  Then  she 
turned  her  face  round  again:  "But 
Gladdie  would  know  what  it  was, 
and  what  -nurse  was  going  to  do 
with  it." 

"And  they  will  be  beautiful  frocks 
— oh!  beautiful."  The  little  one 
stroked  her  sister's  hair  and  peered 
into  her  eyes,  holding  up  the  eyelids 


176         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

with  her  tiny  fingers  to  make  sure 
that  all  was  right.  "Nurse  is  to  get 
some  more  of  the  holey  work. ' ' 

"Only  a  very  little  more,"  said 
Florence,  anxiously.  "Only  just 
enough  to  go  round  the  neck  and 
sleeves. ' ' 

"And  white  ribbons  to  tie  up  the 
arms,"  struck  in  Gladys,  with 
rapture. 

"You  won't  mind,  will  you, 
dear?"  whispered  a  soft  little  voice 
on  her  sister's  shoulder;  while  Flor- 
ence laid  down  her  head  contentedly, 
and  shook  back  her  fleece  of  shining 
hair. 

All  the  time  Lina  never  said  a 
word;  she  could  not  find  it  in  her 
heart  to  check  the  innocent  outpour- 
ings, and  she  knew  that  the  faithful 
creature  who  provided  for  her 
darlings'  wants  and  necessities 
would  not  spend  a  penny  which 
could  be  saved;  but  white  "party" 
frocks,  and  new  morocco  shoes. 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         177 

pointed  to  Christmas  dissipations,  in 
which  she  foresaw  the  one  black 
word,  "expense";  and  although  her 
little  Florrie  and  Gladdie  should  not 
be  grudged  any  pleasures  she  could 
give  them,  she  looked  somewhat 
ruefully  at  the  little,  patched  shoe, 
which  the  latter  still  dangled  by 
the  button  with  a  triumphant  air, 
and  thought — for  she  was  but  a  girl 
herself — that  she  needed  to  be  fitted 
out  as  much  as  the  little  ones,  and 
had  no  chance  of  supplying  her 
wants  as  she  could  theirs. 

Presently  she  drew  them  on  to 
talk  of  other  things,  though  this  was 
not  easy,  for  their  imaginations  had 
been  dazzled,  and  the  thought  of  the 
cutting  and  shaping  going  on  over- 
head drew  their  thoughts  like  a  mag- 
net from  any  other  topic  presented 
to  them.  Lina  knew  by  the 
absent-mindedness  which  made  Flor- 
ence unable  to  think  of  any  appro- 
priate adjective  wherewith  to  "Love 


178         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

her  Love"  in  the  time-honoured 
nursery  game,  and  little  Gladys  out 
of  countenance  to  find  it  was  her 
turn  so  soon  again,  that  the  thoughts 
of  both  were  roving;  and  although 
she  tried  various  other  distractions 
equally  in  favour  with  the  little 
couple,  she  was  half-amused,  half- 
vexed,  to  be  asked  over  and  over 
again  what  o'clock  it  was,  and  finally 
to  have  it  suggested  that  nurse 
would  be  glad  to  have  them  go 
upstairs  earlier  than  usual  in  order 
to  set  her  free  for  the  all-important 
business  of  the  frocks. 

"She  has  got  so  much  to  do;" 
Gladys  jumped  off  her  sister's  knee 
at  last.  "If  she  can,  she  is  going  to 
contrive  us  some  little  white  slips 
too — that  is,  if  you  will  let  her  have 
the  things.  She  is  going  to " 

"But  she  wants  to  talk  to  Lina 
about  that  herself," — Florence  con- 
scientiously averted  every  premature 
disclosure, — "so  we  won't  tease  poor 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         179 

Lina  to-night,"  hugging  and  kiss- 
ing fondly;  and  with  "Good-night, 
darling,  good-night,"  from  each 
rosebud  mouth,  the  two  sprang 
away  into  the  darkness  of  the  large, 
gloomy  room,  and,  scarce  waiting  to 
close  the  door  in  their  excitement, 
tore  upstairs  with  echoing  childish 
mirth,  which  lasted  until  their  own 
upper  regions  were  regained,  and 
the  intervention  of  the  nursery  door 
made  further  sounds  inaudible. 
Lina  looked  after  them  with  a 
smileless  face. 

That  afternoon  in  Regent  Street 
she  had  seen  a  ball-dress  which  an- 
other girl  was  buying.  The  other 
girl  was  not  sure  whether  she 
wanted  it  or  not.  When  the  shop- 
woman's  back  was  turned,  she  con- 
sulted with  her  chaperon,  (obviously 
a  guardian,  or  relation,  whose  mis- 
sion it  was  to  advise,  but  certainly 
not  to  control),  enumerating  the 
dresses  she  already  possessed — the 


l8o         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

white  satin  and  tulle,  the  cream  satin 
and  spotted  net,  the  flowered  silk 
— and  next  inquired,  would  she  have 
any  real  use  for  more  in  the  im- 
mediate future ;  and,  if  not,  would  it 
not  be  a  pity  to  be  encumbered  with 
a  stale  robe,  after  a  newer  fashion 
had  set  in?  Poor  Lina  had  listened 
involuntarily  to  it  all. 

She  would  not  have  minded  about 
a  newer  fashion,  nor  called  a  three- 
months-old  costume  out  of  date.  A 
trifling  commission  had  been  made 
her  excuse  for  strolling  round  the 
gay  department,  and  she  had 
watched  the  scene  wistfully  from 
behind  a  voluminously  draped  lay 
figure.  A  vague,  foolish  curiosity  to 
know  how  it  would  end  detained  her 
there.  Not  that  she  doubted  for  a 
moment,  not  even  from  the  outset. 
She  told  herself  with  a  faint,  irre- 
pressible bitterness,  that  there  did 
not  exist  a  girl — a  girl  young  and 
pretty  like  herself — who  would 


A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT         l8l 

voluntarily  refrain  from  the  acquisi- 
tion of  that  shining,  shimmering 
vision  of  loveliness,  when  it  came  to 
the  point. 

"And  really,  I  think  you  are 
right."  The  portly  dowager  nodded 
approbation  when  the  purchase  was 
made.  "You  will  never  see  any- 
thing to  suit  your  taste  better ;  and 
with  so  many  gay  visits  before  you, 
you  are  sure  to  find  it  come  in  handy 
sometime." 

Gay  visits!  Again  Caroline 
Lambert  breathed  a  soft,  hopeless 
note  of  longing.  She  had  no  visits, 
gay  or  otherwise,  before  her;  her 
acquaintance  was  not  large,  and  was 
mainly  composed  of  people  who, 
although  they  might  have  agreeable 
engagements  for  themselves  during 
the  forthcoming  festal  season,  were 
not  in  a  position  to  be  entertainers. 
She  might  be  invited  to  a  few  dull 
dinners  with  her  father,  or  perhaps 
to  accompany  her  little  sisters  to 


182         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

a  children's  party;  but  Lina  was 
nineteen,  and  craved  for  something 
which  was  not  precisely  met  by 
either  prospect.  The  vision  called 
up  by  the  elder  lady's  prudent 
exultation  was  inexpressibly  tanta- 
lising. Caroline  knew  what  her 
Christmas  would  bring.  Not  many 
bills,  perhaps;  for  she  had  steadily 
kept  these  down,  refusing  to  make  a 
purchase  which  could  not  be  paid 
for  then  and  there,  and  by  this  reso- 
lution denying  herself  more  than 
any  one  ever  knew,  for  the  house- 
hold money  had  to  be  given  account 
of  to  no  one ;  but  if  Christmas-time 
brought  not  the  duns  of  trades- 
people, it  would  resolve  itself,  never- 
theless, into  a  tame,  commonplace 
affair  in  Mr.  Lambert's  household; 
and  his  young  daughter  knew  that 
the  holiday  period,  wont  to  lavish  so 
much  on  others  of  her  age,  such 
thrilling  possibilities,  such  unmeas- 
ured, unexplored  delights,  meant  to 


A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT         183 

her  only  a  flickering  ray  of  mild 
domestic  sunshine,  all  very  well  in 
its  way,  but  lacking  something,  I 
need  hardly  tell  my  youthful  readers 
what. 

One  may  be  an  affectionate 
daughter  and  sister,  but  it  does  not 
fill  up  the  measure  of  one's  content 
to  have  a  whole  merry-making  season 
go  by  in  making  happy  the  hearts  of 
two  little  cherubs  already  happy 
enough,  or  interchanging  pleas- 
antries with  an  easy,  kindly,  elderly 
parent,  with  whom,  but  for  the  tie 
of  blood,  one  has  nothing  in  com- 
mon. Mr.  Lambert  often  provoked 
his  daughter — not  consciously,  for 
he  would  not  have  hurt  the  feelings 
of  a  fly — but  their  two  natures  were 
intrinsically  and  diametrically  op- 
posed ;  and  whilst  the  seriousness  of 
her  demeanour  and  over-anxieties 
about  what  he  called  trifles  would 
occasionally  be  felt  by  him  as  a 
damper  to  cheerfulness  and  a  hin- 


184         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

drance  to  hopeful  effort,  she  did 
scant  justice  to  the  elasticity  of  his 
amiable,  if  somewhat  volatile,  dispo- 
sition. Each  meant  well,  and  both 
had  a  part  to  play  in  family  life. 

Caroline's  part  was  the  hardest, 
or  she  thought  so. 

"Lina?  Sitting  alone?  Where 
are  the  children?"  Mr.  Lambert's 
voice,  a  blithe,  lively  voice,  sounded 
in  the  doorway.  "I  expected  to 
have  found  the  children  here,"  con- 
tinued he,  producing  a  brown  paper 
parcel.  "I  have  brought  them  each 
a  toy." 

"Oh,  papa!" 

"Only  a  penny  toy,  my  dear.  Of 
one  of  the  men  in  the  streets.  But 
I  know  it  will  please  the  little  folks ; 
I  was  quite  taken  with  it  myself; 
most  amusing  and  ingenious.  Let 
me  show  you  how  it  goes  along  the 
carpet" — suiting  the  action  to  the 
words.  "There  now!  Ha,  ha,  ha! 
Is  it  not  comical?  Can't  imagine 


A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT         185 

how  these  things  are  made  for  the 
money.  Shall  we  have  the  children 
down  again,  eh?  I  dare  say  they 
are  not  undressed  yet." 

"Better  keep  the  toys  for  their 
Christmas  presents. ' '  Caroline  eyed 
with  reproachful  disdain  two  little 
painted  men  with  carts  racing  over 
the  floor.  "I  did  not  mean  for 
their  only  presents,"  she  made  haste 
to  add,  for  her  own  heart  responded 
to  the  quick  glance  of  her  father's 
eye.  "But  we  can  only  give  them 
such  very  little  things ' ' 

"Surely  I  am  not  reduced  to  giv- 
ing my  own  children  penny  toys  for 
their  Christmas  presents,"  said  he, 
pained  by  her  tone.  "I  know  how 
good  and  economical  you  are,  my 
dear  child ;  but  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  going  too  far." 

And  Lina  felt  there  was.  She 
had  been  absurd,  exaggerating  her 
own  envious  longings,  her  own  sense 
of  mortification  and  deprivation,  to  a 


l86         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

pitch  that  made  the  sight  of  her 
father,  engrossed  and  amused,  for- 
getful alike  of  home  cares  and  busi- 
ness worries,  rouse  indignation,  and 
cause  her  to  overstep  the  bounds  of 
common-sense,  and  mistake  poverty 
for  destitution. 

The  shade  which  passed  across 
her  father's  brow  restored  her  to 
herself. 

"Papa,  I  am  silly.  Don't  listen  to 
me.  I  always  have  a  bad  hour  or 
two  after  going  through  those 
wretched  accounts." 

"They  are  not  worse  than  usual, 
are  they,  my  dear?" 

"Not  at  all  worse,  rather  better; 

only "  She  paused,  and  then  the 

truth  burst  out.  "Only,  papa,  we 
never  get  any  good  of  it  all ;  we  pay 
and  pay,  and  it  takes  every  farthing 
we  possess  just  to  live — to  keep  a 
roof  over  our  heads,  and  have  food 
on  the  table,  and  clothes  to  wear. 
And  they  are  only  common,  neces- 


A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT         187 

sary  clothes — only  clothes  we  cannot 
possibly  do  without.  I  hardly  dare 
look  in  at  a  shop  window " 

Mr.  Lambert  looked  scared;  he 
was  easily  scared. 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that,  my  poor 
child?  You  have  not  proper  clothes?" 

"Oh,  I  did  not  say  proper  clothes; 
I  have  a  hat,  and  a  jacket,  and  a 
frock.  I  have  even  two  frocks, 
wonderful  to  relate,  and  a  shabby 
old  dinner-dress." 

"In  which  you  always  look  re- 
markably pretty.  For  all  their 
finery,  I  never  see  that  other  girls 
cut  you  put." 

Alas!  Something  of  the  same 
thought  had  been  playing  the  mis- 
chief in  poor  little  Lina's  bosom  all 
the  afternoon.  She  knew  she  could 
have  shone,  held  her  head  with  as 
high  an  air,  danced  with  as  light  a 
step,  and  prattled  with  as  musical  a 
voice,  as  any  one  in  the  gay  assem- 
blages of  which  as  yet  she  had  only 


l88         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

beheld  reflections — reflections  which 
did  but  invest  her  with  desire  for  the 
unattainable:  how  unattainable  she 
alone  seemed  to  realise. 

"Papa,  I  try" — a  little  struggle 
with  herself — "I  try  not  to  be  dis- 
contented ;  but  it  is  so  hard  to  have 
to  put  everything  aside — even  the 
chances  that  do  come  now  and  then 
— because  we  cannot  afford  to  go 
about  like  other  people " 

"Of  course,  my  dear,  it  is  a  depri- 
vation; I  feel  it  so  myself." 

"But  not  as  I  do,"  cried  she, 
breathing  quickly.  "You  have 
seen,  and  known,  and  lived ;  but  I — 
the  world  is  beyond  me — I  long  to 
feel  it,  and  touch  it,  and  I  can't. 
Whichever  way  I  turn  we  are  so 
hemmed  in  by  poverty." 

"Just  so.  'Hemmed  in,'  "  as- 
sented he,  with  approbation. 

"Poverty  that  no  one  sees  or 
recognises;  that  you  yourself  hardly 
seem  to  feel. ' '  Again  an  irrepress- 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         1 89 

ible  bitterness  crept  into  the  speak- 
er's tone.  "You  go,  and  come,  and 
meet  with  people " 

"Aye,  to  be  sure,  I  meet  with 
people."  Mr.  Lambert  smiled  com- 
placently. "That  reminds  me,  I 
met  that  nice  fellow,  Wycliffe,  again 
to-day,  and  he  was  so  friendly  and 
pleasant  I  asked  him  to  call.  I  told 
him  he  must  come  to  dinner.  " 

"Papa!     To  dinner?" 

"He  accepted  at  once.  Said  he 
didn't  know  many  people  in  Town  at 
this  time  of  year;  only  chanced  to 
be  up  on  business." 

"And  you  asked  him  to  dinner? 
And  you  know  we  can't  have  dinner- 
parties  ' ' 

"Pho!  pho!  Who  talked  of 
dinner-parties?" 

Then  the  torrent  burst  forth. 

"You  tell  me  to  keep  the  house- 
keeping down,  and  every  week  it  is 
all  I  can  do  to  pay  the  books.  I 
never  have  a  farthing  over;  and 


190         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

here  is  a  man  to  whom  we  owe  noth- 
ing, whom  I  have  never  even 
seen " 

"You  will  see  him;  he  is  to  call 
first." 

"Why  should  he  call?  Why 
should  he  come  near  us?"  cried  she, 
excitedly.  "We  are  not  the  sort  of 
people  he  imagines.  He  hears  of  a 
good  house,  and  you  invite  him  in 
an  offhand  manner,  and  he  expects  a 
gay  family,  a  smart  household,  and 
a  fine,  well-set-out  dinner;  and — and 
— when  he  comes,  there — there — is 
only  me!"  Her  shrill  young  voice 
quavered  and  broke  at  the  word. 
Ere  he  could  reply  she  had  pushed 
past,  and  vanished  through  the  open 
door. 

"This  housekeeping  mania  really 
gets  upon  her  nerves,"  said  Mr. 
Lambert,  raising  his  eyebrows,  and 
shaking  his  head  sagaciously.  Noth- 
ing ever  got  upon  his  nerves. 

When  we  are  at  a  low  ebb  it  is  sel- 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         1QI 

dom  that  anything  happens  to  cheer 
us;  oftener  far,  some  small  worry 
takes  the  opportunity  for  making  its 
presence  known,  or  some  blow  from 
an  unexpected  quarter,  falls.  Caro- 
line's "worry"  had  its  innings  first, 
starting  with  the  break  of  day.  A 
servant  was  ill,  and  the  others  con- 
siderately waited  to  inform  their 
young  mistress  of  the  fact  till  their 
master  had  left  the  house,  by  which 
means  the  burden,  with  all  its  con- 
comitants, was  (as  burdens  usually 
were  in  that  house)  thrown  on  her 
shoulders.  It  had  to  be  carried — 
she  carried  it.  By  afternoon  the 
doctor  had  pronounced  the  case  one 
for  a  hospital;  and  in  place  of  the 
respectable  cook,  hitherto  one  of  her 
young  mistress'  few  comforts,  their 
reigned  below  stairs  a  charwoman, 
upon  whom,  but  for  the  pressure  of 
necessity,  she  would  have  looked 
askance. 

She   was    just    considering    what 


192         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

was  to  be  done  next,  when,  with 
a  loud  peal  of  the  front-door 
bell,  the  "blow"  took  possession  of 
the  field.  This  consisted  of  a  letter 
from  her  godmother,  and  a  parcel; 
the  former  explaining  that  the  latter 
— Lina's  Christmas  present  —  had 
been  sent  thus  early,  owing  to  the 
donor's  departure  for  wintering  in  a 
warmer  clime. 

Now  on  this  very  impending 
departure  my  hapless  heroine  had 
been  innocently  building.  Once 
before  it  had  happened  that  when 
starting  betimes  for  the  Riviera,  her 
relation  had  found  no  opportunity 
for  selecting  her  annual  gift,  and 
had  substituted  a  cheque;  and  "If 
only  she  would  do  so  again, "  had  been 
the  subject  of  many  anxious  musings. 

But  alas!  here  was  a  handsome, 
useless,  expensive  toy,  which  Lady 
Beaumont  thought  "so  clever,"  and 
would  help  "to  amuse  the  children 
on  winter  evenings." 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         193 

Poor,  poor  Lina!  She  almost 
dashed  the  riddling  Neapolitan  with 
his  basket  of  mock  fruits  to  the  floor. 
She  spurned  him  with  her  foot  as  he 
lay  grinning  there.  Five  pounds!— 
five  precious  golden  sovereigns,  that 
would  have  been — what  would  they 
not  have  been  to  her? — to  be  thus 
cruelly,  wantonly,  mercilessly  flung 
away! 

And  presently,  in  the  dusk — for 
the  light  was  waning  and  the  lamps 
were  lit  outside — hot,  blinding  tears 
welled  unheeded  from  her  eyes,  and 
streamed  over  the  hand  on  which 
her  burning  cheek  was  pressed.  She 
must  be  miserable;  who  could  say 
she  ought  not  to  be  miserable?  Who 
could  rebuke  her  for  giving  way  at 
last  beneath  such  an  accumulation 
of  calamities  shared  by  none? 

And  anon  arose  from  out  the  last 
bitter  reflection  a  still  more  bitter 
resolution.  Why  should  her  griefs 
be  shared  by  none?  Why  should  not 


194         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

her  father  for  once  be  forced  into 
sympathy,  and  have  his  eyes  opened 
to  the  hardships  of  his  lot  and  hers? 
He  ought  to  feel,  as  she  never  could 
make  him  feel,  that  it  was  one 
deserving  of  resentment  and  rebel- 
lion. She  would  tell  him  so  now; 
tell  him  the  truth  in  plainest  terms 
before  he  could  stop  her;  before  any 
qualms  of  filial  duty  could  bind  her 
tongue. 

Hark!  there  was  the  door-bell! 
To  her  excited  imagination  its  harsh, 
discordant  clang  sounded  like  a  war- 
note  to  battle!  It  was  the  time  of 
Mr.  Lambert's  usual  return,  and  the 
next  thing  would  be  his  brisk,  alert 
entrance  and  cheerful  greeting. 

Cheerfulness  at  the  moment  was 
an  actual  crime  to  one  whose  heart 
was  as  heavy  as  Lina  Lambert's; 
and  scarce  had  the  door  opened  and 
the  expected  step  sounded  on  the 
floor,  than,  without  raising  her  head 
or  changing  the  crouching  attitude 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT          195 

into  which  she  had  sunk,  the  piteous 
outcry  made  itself  heard,  which  was 
to  arouse  at  least  some  spark  of 
fellow-feeling,  if  it  could  do  nothing 
else,  within  her  parent's  breast. 

"Papa,  you  wonder  to  find  me 
crying?  I  dare  say  you  think  I  have 
nothing  to  cry  for?  You  often  tell 
me  how  well  I  am  off  compared  with 
others,  and  you  never  will  see  that 
there  are  things  besides  food,  and 
clothes,  and  a  roof  over  one's  head; 
and  that  it  is  hard,  it  is  hard,  to  see 
so  much  that  is  just  beyond  one's 
reach  at  every  turn.  You  say  we  are 
not  so  very  poor,  but  I  say  we  are 
poor,  and  it  seems  as  if  ours  were  al- 
most the  worst  kind  of  poverty — oh, 
don't  speak!"  catching  an  indistinct 
sound  which  she  took  to  be  a  protest. 
"Don't  speak;  for  I  can't  bear  it.  I 
know  what  you  would  say  perfectly 
well.  You  would  tell  me  it  is  very 
wrong  to  be  so  'ungrateful  to  Provi- 
dence,' and  so  'discontented  with  my 


196         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

home. '  You  think  it  is  all  for  my- 
self that  I  care.  But  it  is  not.  I 
know  it  is  not.  It  is  for  dear  little 
Florrie  and  Gladdie,  too,  whom  I 
have  to  refuse  continually  when 
they  ask  for  things  I  know  they 
ought  to  have.  And  they  are  such 
dear  children,  and  I  do  love  them 
so;  I  can't  bear  it." 

Again  an  interruption  was  at- 
tempted, but  again  Caroline  held 
up  a  passionate,  imperative  hand. 

"Oh,  do  be  quiet,  and  don't  say  I 
am  'undutiful'  and  'disrespectful.' 
I  don't  mean  to  be;  but  to-day  I  feel 
as  if  I  must  speak  out.  Everything 
has  gone  wrong  to-day.  I  thought 
we  were  at  our  lowest  pass  before, 
but  now  here  is  the  cook  ill  and  gone 
off  to  a  hospital.  And  that,"  sud- 
denly swerving  round  towards  the 
toy,  with  its  box  and  wrappings, 
which  lay  by  her  side,  "that  is  Lady 
Beaumont's  Christmas  present!  Yes, 
indeed  it  is !  And  you  know  what  I 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         1 97 

had  thought,  what  I  hoped  it  might 
be.  Papa,  I  feel  that  if  you  have 
asked  that  man — that  Mr.  Wycliffe 
—to  dinner,  it  would  be  the  last  drop 
in  the  cup!  Papa,  I  cannot  have 
him ;  I  will  not ! — ' ' 

"Ahem." 

This  time  it  is  a  protest  too  reso- 
lute and  significant  to  be  borne 
down.  Furthermore,  it  was  uttered,, 
as  she  for  the  first  time  perceived, 
in  an  unknown  voice. 

"Papa!" 

Papa?  It  was — it  must  be  her 
father  who  was  standing  there  in  the 
flickering  firelight ;  who  had  entered 
unannounced  through  the  folding 
doors,  and  made  his  way  in  silence 
till  he  reached  the  point  at  which 
she  had  lifted  up  her  voice  to  arrest 
further  progress  and  command 
attention. 

It  could  not,  dared  not,  be  any 
one  else,  before  whom  had  been 
poured  forth  the  pent-up  flood — the 


198         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

outpourings  of  a  sore  and  angry 
heart. 

It  could  not  be  a  stranger — and, 
oh,  worst  of  all !  most  frightful,  most 
incredible  of  all !  the  stranger.  The 
very  man  whose  name  had  been — 
horror  of  horrors!  the  head  and 
front,  the  centre,  the  apex  of  her 
denunciation. 

"Papa?"  She  trembled  from  head  to 
foot.  Involuntarily  she  clung  to  the 
illusion,  but  the  hoarse,  faltering  ac- 
cents betrayed  their  own  uncertainty. 

Slowly  she  left  her  seat,  and  stag- 
gered upright;  and  then  it  seemed 
as  though  some  one  else,  not 
herself,  had  risen,  and  was  holding 
by  the  back  of  the  low  chair,  con- 
fronting with  a  stupefied  gaze  a  tall 
figure  which  should  have  been  differ- 
ent, absolutely,  unmistakably  differ- 
ent from  what  it  was. 

Foolishly  she  wondered  why  it 
should  still  wear  an  overcoat,  and 
hold  its  hat  in  its  hands.  The  figure 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         199 

that  should  have  been,  was  wont  to 
disencumber  itself  of  both  in  the  hall 
below.  Besides  it,  the  other,  would 
have  greeted  her,  chidingly,  it  might 
be,  but  yet  in  proper  paternal 
fashion.  It  would  not  have  stood 
mute,  stock-still,  with  a  sealed  face 
and  rigid  outline. 

It  was  she  herself  who  made  the 
first  motion  in  the  stony  silence  and 
frozen  immobility  of  the  scene.  She 
attempted  something ;  she  knew  not 
what. 

Probably  it  was  to  escape  the 
hideous  instant  of  re-animation  by 
one  swift  rush ;  to  be  gone  ere  she 
could  be  overtaken  by  it? 

But  treacherous  Nature  refused 
her  aid.  Her  knees  shook,  the  floor 
seemed  to  sink  from  beneath  her 
feet.  Like  a  vengeful  giant  the 
apparition  of  the  stranger  loomed 
between  her  and  safety,  seemed  to 
tower  overhead,  to  approach  nearer, 
to  bend  closer — and  then — one  last 


200         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

conscious  sensation,  she  was  being 
caught  in  arms  that  she  was  power- 
less to  shake  off. 

"Ha,  Wycliffe?  Glad  to  see  you 
here."  Mr.  Lambert,  genial  and 
cordial,  greeted  his  guest  an  hour 
later.  "Lina,  you  should  have 
had  up  some  tea.  Or,  better  still, 
stay  to  dinner,  now  you  are  here?" 
turning  again  to  the  visitor.  "We 
dine  at  seven ;  keep  early  hours,  you 
see,  and  are  quite  by  ourselves  to- 
night. If  you  will  stay  and  take  pot- 
luck " 

"Thank  you.  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  stay." 

But  he  would  not  stay  as  he  was ; 
he  would  go  home  and  change,  and 
re-appear  in  correct  dress,  with  a 
flower  in  his  button-hole,  and  a  smile 
in  his  heart. 

A  strange  experience.  Wycliffe 
had  never  known  its  equal.  Never 
felt  anything  like  the  thrill  of  pity, 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         2OI 

tenderness,  and  anxiety  with  which 
he  had  watched  the  first  dawnings 
of  re-awakened  life  in  the  fair 
young  form  of  which  he  had  invol- 
untarily taken  possession,  as  it 
swayed  and  slipped  from  its  foothold, 
and,  but  for  him,  would  have  fallen 
on  the  floor. 

After  the  first  pang  of  natural 
alarm  and  consternation,  he  had  not 
pined  for  interference  in  the  part 
allotted  to  him.  He  had  gently 
borne  his  fair  burden  to  a  neighbour- 
ing sofa ;  laid  her  thereon ;  and  then, 
in  default  of  other  restoratives, 
placed  upon  her  brow  her  own  hand- 
kerchief wet  with  her  own  tears. 

Poor  little  weeper!  He  had  sat 
down  and  scanned  the  pale  face  upon 
the  pillow;  and  almost  smiled,  recall- 
ing the  moment  which  had  at  first, 
it  must  be  owned,  sent  an  electric 
shock  through  his  own  veins,  but 
which  now,  within  the  last  sixty 
seconds,  had  by  some  magical  meta- 


2O2          A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

morphosis,  been  transformed  into  a 
pathetic  memory. 

Almost  ere  her  eyelids  had  un- 
closed he  had  felt  the  language  of 
imploring  penitence  in  the  gaze 
turned  upon  him.  He  had  returned 
it  with  a  look  of  encouragement. 
Then  the  penitent  had  struggled  to 
draw  herself  upright.  This  he  had 
forbidden  sternly.  Then  she  had 
striven  to  speak.  This  also  had  been 
forbidden.  Finally,  he  had  laid  his 
hand  on  hers,  and  in  slow,  soothing 
accents,  as  one  who  would  compose 
and  comfort  a  bewildered  child,  had 
spoken.  Gracious  powers1,  how  he 
had  spoken!  Looking  back  upon 
the  scene  it  seemed  to  him  as  though 
he  had  been  inspired.  Where  was 
diffidence?  Where  embarrassment? 
Surely  his  position  ought  to  have 
been  awkward  enough  in  having  to 
confess  that  he  had  not  only  heark- 
ened, however  involuntarily,  to  con- 
fidences meant  for  another,  but  had 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT          203 

actually  heard  himself  alluded  to  as 
a  principal  ingredient  in  a  cup  whose 
bitterness  had  caused  floods  of  tears. 

And  yet  he  was  sure,  positive,  that 
he  had  experienced  no  sense  of  vexa- 
tion, no  confusion  of  spirit,  whilst 
engaged  in  the  absorbing  task. 

He  had  been  bent  upon  reassuring 
and  consoling.  As  soon  as  she  was 
able,  he  had  allowed  his  patient 
(using  the  term  with  an  air  of 
medical  authority)  to  tell  her  own 
tale,  and  listened  to  her  broken 
explanations  and  stammering  apolo- 
gies with  perfect  patience,  nay,  with 
scarcely  an  interruption.  He  saw 
that  it  relieved  her  to  make  a  full 
confession. 

And  by-and-by  a  compact  had 
been  entered  into  between  the  two. 
No  one  was  to  be  told  what  had  hap- 
pened; not  another  human  being 
was  to  be  cognisant  of  Lina  Lam- 
bert's awful  misdemeanour,  and  its 
still  more  appalling  sequel.  It  must 


204         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

remain  forever  a  secret  between 
them;  never  to  be  alluded  to,  and 
if  possible  to  be  obliterated  from 
the  very  memory  of  each. 

Lina  had  been  the  speaker,  the 
arranger,  the  dictator;  all  he  had 
had  to  do  was  to  promise  implicit 
obedience. 

With  a  seriousness  equal  to  her 
own  he  had  taken  the  vows.  She 
had  then  proceeded:  would  Mr. 
Wycliffe  give  his  solemn  word  that 
he  would  not  presume,  upon  his 
knowledge  of  the  secret?  Would  he, 
for  her  sake,  (she  had  been  near  cry- 
ing again  as  she  spoke),  for  her 
sake,  would  he  not  now  refuse  the 
hospitality  he  had  openly  heard  him- 
self begrudged?  She  could  never  do 
away  with  the  shocking  fact  that  he 
had  heard  it ;  never  cease  to  feel  the 
shame  of  that  terrible  moment;  but 
he  could  at  least  assure  her  of  his 
forgiveness  by  affording  her  an 
opportunity  of  —  of  — .  He  had 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         205 

gravely   protested    he   would   grant 
the  opportunity. 

At  last  Lina  had  looked  at  him. 
For  the  first  time  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  interview,  she  had  let  slip 
a  shy  glance  of  curiosity,  and  he  had 
fancied,  though  it  might  have  been 
only  fancy,  that  speech  came  more 
readily  thereafter.  But  there  was 
not  much  time  to  improve  the  ad- 
vance, if  advance  there  were;  for 
the  next  ten  minutes,  and  just  as  a 
quiet  conversation  had  been  entered 
into,  designed  to  show  that  the  inti- 
macy begun  under  such  unfortunate 
auspices  might  now  be  proceeded 
with  more  happily,  the  interruption 
occurred  whose  anticipation  had 
given  rise  to  the  whole.  The  master 
of  the  house,  who  had  been  detained 
later  than  usual  at  his  office,  made 
his  appearance,  and  greeted  his 
daughter's  visitor  in  the  manner  we 
have  already  heard.  Without  hesi- 
tation, and  without  so  much  as  a 


2O6         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

side  glance,  Wycliffe  had  met  the 
test,  and  responded  to  it  as  we  also 
know. 

With  an  inward  sense  of  deep- 
breathed  exultation  he  now  made 
ready  for  the  evening  in  store.  He 
was  conscious  of  standing  on  the 
brink  of  his  fate.  Perhaps  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  had  now  a 
chance  of  making  his  way  on  his 
own  merits  with  a  pretty,  charm- 
ing, natural,  and  lovable  girl. 
Hitherto  he  had  been  too  heavily 
weighted. 

But  from  his  first  haphazard  en- 
counter with  Mr.  Lambert,  it  had 
been  obvious  that  he  was  being  taken 
merely  as  a  pleasant  fellow,  of  whose 
position  and  fortune  his  new  ac- 
quaintance was  entirely  ignorant. 
The  ignorance  amused  Wycliffe; 
once  or  twice  he  had  chuckled  in- 
wardly on  finding  it  taken  for 
granted  that  he  was  some  insignifi- 
cant unit  in  the  great  working  hive, 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         207 

and  at  its  being  hinted,  kindly  and 
artlessly,  that  he  was,  perchance,  an 
unsuccessful  one. 

Upon  this  he  had  ventured  further, 
and  cultivated  Mr.  Lambert's  inti- 
mac)7,  always  carefully  keeping  his 
own  secret.  He  liked  the  little, 
cheery,  volatile  man  who  so  unsus- 
piciously bade  him  to  his  dreary 
house.  That  it  must  be  a  dreary 
house  he  knew;  a  dull,  dingy  resi- 
dence in  a  vile  situation.  But  some- 
how his  feet  had  carried  him  thither 
unaccountably,  in  spite  of  himself, 
as  it  were ;  and  he  now  looked  back 
upon  the  impulse  with  an  almost 
superstitious  reverence. 

It  was  no  longer  to  him  as  if  he 
were  about  to  revisit  an  ordinary 
house  in  a  common  street,  for  the 
sake  of  passing  an  uneventful  even- 
ing with  two  every-day  acquaint- 
ances. No,  he  was  going  to  see 
her,  and  what  that  meant  to  Barring- 
ton  Wycliffe  he  alone  knew.  A 


208        A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

glamour  was  cast  over  the  present; 
the  future  shone  beneath  a  halo. 

But  to  all  outward  seeming  the 
next  few  hours  passed  as  unremark- 
ably  as  hours  could  do.  The  fair 
young  hostess  was  shy,  serious,  and 
restrained,  yet  gentle,  and  responsive 
withal.  The  host  was  animated  and 
easy;  the  guest,  perhaps  a  shade 
more  earnest  in  his  endeavours  to 
please  than  so  simple  an  occasion 
might  have  seemed  to  warrant. 

But  then,  "Poor  fellow,  I  dare  say 
he  doesn't  often  dine  out,"  nodded 
Mr.  Lambert  to  himself;  "and 
though  it's  not  much  of  a  dinner, 
still  it  is  nicely  set  out,  and  Lina 
has  been  a  good  girl,  and  done  her 
best.  Anyhow,  it  must  be  better  to 
put  your  feet  under  a  gentleman's 
mahogany  than  to  grub  in  lodgings, 
or  snatch  your  food  in  the  clatter  of 
a  restaurant." 

He  rejoiced  to  perceive  no  sign  of 
sullenness  in  his  daughter's  face. 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         209 

On  the  contrary,  although  she  often 
sat  with  downcast  eyes,  and  her 
speech  was  lower  and  more  hesi- 
tating than  its  wont,  he  could  not  but 
fancy  that  Wycliffe  had  no  fault  to 
find.  He  felt  proud  of  his  girl ;  she 
had  never  shown  to  greater  advan- 
tage. It  ended  in  his  pluming  him- 
self upon  his  own  cleverness;  he 
would  know  how  to  manage  in 
future;  the  way  with  Lina  was  to 
whack  out  an  invitation  before  her 
face  when  she  was  powerless  to 
gainsay  it.  That  done,  she  was  all 
the  better  afterwards  for  a  cheerful 
evening. 

Then  his  self -congratulation  pro- 
ceeded. Poor  little  Florrie  and 
Gladdie  had  been  allowed  to  come 
down,  dressed  in  their  best,  and 
frolic  about  the  drawing-room  be- 
fore dinner;  and  it  was  a  nice 
change  for  them.  Wycliffe  must 
have  seen  what  a  pretty  picture  it 
made,  the  two  fair-haired  little 


210         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

things  clinging  about  their  elder 
sister,  and  their  evident  devotion  to 
her.  They  had  exhibited  their  little 
painted  men  and  carts,  and  Wycliffe 
had  gone  down  on  the  floor  to  assist 
at  the  performance. 

He  had  told  them  he  had  no  little 
sisters,  and  they  had  commiserated 
his  hard  case.  They  had  demanded 
to  know  if  he  had  no  sisters  at  all. 

No,  he  had  none  at  all. 

"Not  even  a  Lina?"  said  little 
Gladys,  twining  her  fingers  fondly 
round  her  sister's,  and  looking  first 
with  adoring  gaze  upwards,  and  then 
dolefully  at  the  sisterless,  destitute 
new  friend.  "Well,  we  wouldn't 
like  to  give  you  our  Lina,  you 
know,"  and  she  shook  her  head  with 
significant  emphasis;  "we  couldn't 
possibly  spare  you  our  Lina." 
The  little  speaker  had  turned  very 
red,  because  every  one  laughed,  and 
Lina  said  quickly  that  it  was  the 
children's  bed-time. 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         211 

Lina  had  blushed,  as  was  natural, 
and  the  blush  had  not  been  lost  upon 
her  father,  nor,  he  opined,  upon 
another  pair  of  eyes  either.  He 
fancied  that  Wycliffe's  gaze  rested  a 
full  minute  on  his  daughter's 
abashed  and  half-averted  counte- 
nance. 

The  awkwardness  passed,  how- 
ever, by  the  latter's  putting  in  his 
word  for  the  revocation  of  the 
nursery  edict,  and  in  the  end  the 
little  pair  had  trotted  joyously  off, 
consoled  by  promises  of  chocolate- 
boxes,  and  divers  other  whispered 
visions  of  delight. 

It  was  not  until  just  before  the 
close  of  the  evening — and  it  did  not 
close  early,  we  may  be  sure — that 
the  guest  found  himself  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  once  more  alone  with 
his  young  entertainer.  In  a  party 
of  three  it  is  not  easy  to  let  fall 
asides,  more  especially  when  these 
resolve  themselves  into  a  question  to 


212         A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT 

which  an  answer  is  imperatively 
demanded.  But  at  length  Oppor- 
tunity, ever  kind  to  the  youngest  of 
her  devotees,  beckoned  Wycliffe, 
and  hejnade  haste  to  embrace  her. 

Lina  was  standing  by  the  distant 
piano,  putting  up  her  music,  her 
eyes  large  and  soft,  a  bright  tint 
upon  either  cheek. 

"I  am  going  to  encroach,"  mur- 
mured a  voice  in  her  ear.  She 
started;  then  listened  with  beating 
heart,  and  poor  attempt  at  uncon- 
cern. "You  made  me  promise  to 
forget  what  I  heard  and  saw  to- 
day," said  Wycliffe,  slowly.  He  had 
turned  his  back  upon  the  room,  and 
was  leaning  over  the  piano  towards 
her.  "May  I  dare  now  to  ask — to 
be  allowed — to  remember  it?" 

"Remember  it?" 

"All  unwittingly,  I  unlocked  a 
treasure,"  continued  he,  gazing  at 
her  with  steadfast,  longing  eyes. 
"I  had  but  one  peep,  and  now  I 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         213 

crave  for  more.  We  might  have 
known  each  other,  as  other  people 
do,  superficially,  artificially,  on  the 
surface,  for  months  and  years  with- 
out having  learned  as  much" — he 
corrected  himself — "without  my  hav- 
ing learned  as  much  of  you  your- 
self, of  your  real,  true  self,  as  was 
revealed  to  me  in  one  flash  this 
afternoon.  That  terrible  moment! 
It  is  no  longer  terrible  to  me.  Is  it 
to  you?  And  I  can't  forget  it. 
And  I  know  I  never  shall.  Is  it  too 
presumptuous  to  hope  that  it  may  be 

the  beginning ?"  He  paused  for 

a  response. 

None  came. 

"At  any  rate,  absolve  me  from  my 
promise,"  he  whispered;  and  caught 
the  shadow  of  a  monosyllable,  and 
took  it  for  an  absolution. 

"Well,  now,  you  see  what  I  did 
for  you!"  cried  Lina's  father, 
radiant,  a  month  later.  "There 


214         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

were  you  moaning1  and  groaning, 
and  declaring  we  were  too  poor 
even  to  have  a  friend  come  and  dine 
with  us!  Quite  annoyed  because  I 
had  asked  this  very  Wycliffe,  who 
I  thought  would  be  glad  of  a  meal, 
and  who  now  turns  out  to  be  as  rich 
as  Croesus !  Quite  in  a  state  because 
I  had  asked  him  to  a  family  dinner! 
I  must  say  you  did  the  civil  to  him 
when  he  came;  but  he  little  knew 
what  I  had  had  to  go  through  before- 
hand on  his  account.  Phew !  There 
was  a  regular  hail-storm !  And  if  I 
had  known  who  and  what  Wycliffe 
really  was,  I  confess  I  should  never 
have  dared  to  risk  an  invitation — 
that  is  the  joke  of  it!  I  thought  he 
was  a  mere  waif  and  stray;  cast 
ashore  and  stranded  in  this  great, 
cold-blooded  London;  whom  it 
would  be  charity  to ' ' 

"Dear  papa,  you  were  always  so 
kind-hearted. ' ' 

"Aye,  aye !     It  is  'dear  papa'  now, 


A    TERRIBLE    MOMENT         2  I  5 

is  it?  And  I  am  'kind-hearted'  now, 
am  I?  But  I  rather  think  it  was 
only  a  week  or  two  ago  that  I  was  all 
that  was  reckless  and  extravagant." 

"Papa,  I  am  sorry  I  ever  said  or 
thought  so.  I  was  unhappy  and 
over-anxious. ' ' 

"So  you  were,  my  girl;  so  you 
were.  But  now  it  is  all  right,  and 
your  poor  little  harassed  mind  may 
be  easy  at  last.  You  have  a  glorious 
future  before  you — the  best  fellow 
in  the  world  for  your  husband,  and 
his  fine  country-seat  for  your  home. 
A  lucky  girl  you  are,  to  be  sure! 
But  now,  my  dear,"  added  the  lit- 
tle man,  with  a  soberer  look  on  his 
kindly  face,  "just  one  word,  Lina, 
and  don't  take  it  amiss.  You  have 
got  rid  of  the  house-books — at  least 
of  any  worry  connected  with  them; 
it  will  be  all  smooth  sailing  in  that 
quarter  now,  I  fancy; — but  remem- 
ber, dear  girl,  that  by-and-by  there 
will  be  other  cares  and  crosses — no 


2l6         A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT 

life  is  without  them — and  when  these 
come,  try  not  to  fret  and  pine; 
resolve  not  to  brood  over  trials  and 
vexations;  set  yourself  with  your 
face  to  the  sun,  Lina,  my  darling; 
think  of  the  blessings,  not  of  the 
shortcomings  of  your  lot;  and  see 
that  you  honour  your  God  and  do 
credit  to  His  service  by  rendering 
it  with  a  cheerful  heart." 

His  daughter  kissed  him  silently. 
She  had  never  understood  her  father 
before. 

"As  for  me,  I  must  do  the  best  I 
can  without  you,"  proceeded  he,  in 
a  lighter  tone ;  "but  I  can  always  get 
along,  you  know.  And  Wycliffe  has 
a  post  in  his  eye  for  me ;  but  it  is  not 
to  be  talked  about  at  present.  Any- 
how, the  tide  has  turned  for  both  of 
us — I  said  it  would.  As  for  the  poor 
little  lassies,  I  expect  they  feel  as  if 
heaven  had  opened,  such  wonderful 
things  happen  to  them  every  day, 
and  they  are  already  talking  of  high 


A    TERRIBLE   MOMENT         217 

times  at  'Lina's  home.'  So,  my 
dear,  I  give  you  joy,  and  I  think  you 
have  the  fairest  prospect  of  the  wish 
being  fulfilled  that  ever  woman 
had." 

But  he  never  knew,  for  no  one 
ever  told  him — it  remained,  and 
continued  to  remain,  a  secret  be- 
tween the  lovers,  too  sacred  to  be 
divulged  to  any  one — that  the  whole 
structure  of  their  love  and  happiness 
had  been  built  upon  the  grim  foun- 
dation-stone of  "a  terrible  moment. " 


JEMIMA:    A  METAMORPHOSIS 


Jemima: 
A  Metamorphosis 


Miss  Jemima  Sillacombe  frankly 
owned  that  she  did  not  like  to  be 
"put  out  of  her  way."  Very  few 
people  who  have  "ways"  do. 

And  as  there  are  still  fewer  indi- 
viduals of  either  sex  who,  having 
entered  upon  their  fourth  decade  of 
existence,  are  not  possessed  of  these 
early  harbingers  of  maturity  —  espe- 
cially when  the  soil  has  been  favour- 
able for  their  development  —  it 
follows  that  there  is  a  vast  crop  of 
small  idiosyncrasies,  fancies,  and 
foibles  flourishing  in  the  world, 
which  are  harmless  enough  in  them- 
selves, but  which  often  exert  an  ex- 
traordinary influence  on  human  life. 


222  JEMIMA: 

In  the  case  of  Jemima  Sillacombe, 
no  one  ever  thought  of  denying  that 
Jemima  had  her  share — and  a  little 
more — of  this  unknown  quantity. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  to  the 
manner  born.  Method,  punctuality, 
order,  routine — these  were  the  very 
breath  of  her  nostrils. 

But  then,  if  a  lady  who  has  lived 
in  the  same  house,  in  the  same 
style,  with  the  same  surroundings 
and  general  environment  for  thirty 
summers,  may  not  be  allowed  to 
cherish  her  own  little  "ways,"  and 
map  out  her  own  little  days,  and  rise 
and  dress,  and  drive  and  dine,  and 
potter  about  among  her  birds  and 
flowers,  exactly  how  and  when  she 
pleases,  who  may? 

Jemima  hurt  nobody.  Defrauded 
nobody.  Nay,  she  was  an  excellent, 
pious  creature,  whose  ear  was  ever 
open  to  the  cry  of  the  needy,  whose 
heart  was  true,  and  whose  life  was 
pure, — and  no  one  who  knew  Miss 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  223 

Sillacombe  had  ever  a  hard  word  for 
her. 

As  we  have  said,  she  still  lived  on 
in  the  home  of  her  childhood,  the 
only  tmwedded  member  of  a  large 
family,  and  also  the  youngest. 
From  the  age  of  twenty  she  had  been 
practically  in  possession  of  both 
house  and  mother,  and  the  pleasant, 
easy  existence  then  inaugurated,  had 
flowed  on  ever  since. 

There  was  really  nothing  to  ruf- 
fle it. 

Mrs.  Sillacombe,  an  ample  dowa- 
ger, whose  husband  had  been  dead 
so  long  that  she  had  almost  for- 
gotten what  it  was  not  to  be  a 
widow,  was  just  the  person  for 
whose  comfort  a  daughter  could  be 
properly  solicitous  without  any  very 
severe  strain  on  her  own.  When 
Jemima  had  written  dear  mamma's 
notes,  reminded  her  of  her  medicine, 
and  read  aloud  to  her  the  chief  items 
of  the  Court  Circular  column  of  the 


224  JEMIMA: 

morning  paper,  she  had  performed 
the  principal  daughterly  functions  of 
the  day.  It  only  remained  to  hold 
an  occasional  consultation  as  to  calls 
and  shopping,  and  to  inquire  what 
books  should  be  exchanged  at  the 
circulating  library. 

Mrs.  Sillacombe  saw  everything 
through  Jemima's  eyes, — or,  to  be 
more  correct,  saw  all  she  cared  to 
see.  Nothing  beyond  the  range  of 
her  House,  her  servants,  her  meals, 
her  daily  drive,  and  her  occasional 
doctor's  visit,  had  any  real  hold  on 
her  attention.  Even  the  affairs  of 
her  married  daughters — she  had  no 
sons — elicited  but  a  flickering  and 
uncertain  interest;  and  if  a  more 
than  ordinarily  startling  piece  of  gos- 
sip were  brought  to  her  ken,  and  she 
were  sufficiently  roused  to  put  a 
question  or  two,  and  pass  a  comment 
on  the  replies  received,  Jemima 
would  delightedly  exclaim  that  "dear 
mamma  was  quite  excited." 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  225 

To  be  plain,  the  old  lady  led  a 
stupid,  animal  existence;  and  only 
the  genuine  sweetness  of  her  daugh- 
ter's nature  could  have  cast  over  it 
any  sort  of  halo. 

Jemima  was,  however,  perfectly 
content.  She  had  never  known  her 
mother  different;  she  had  never 
known  much  of  her  sisters  at  all; 
she  felt  no  lack,  had  no  unsatisfied 
yearnings. 

On  the  contrary,  it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  was  one  of  the  luckiest 
persons  imaginable,  in  that  she 
was  still  an  inmate  of  the  beauti- 
ful, old,  well-appointed  domain; 
still  supported  in  her  authority  by 
the  grey-headed  butler  and  house- 
keeper, who  had  come  in  her 
infancy;  could  still  step  into  the 
high-swung  barouche  as  regularly  as 
three  o'clock  came  round  every 
afternoon,  and,  with  parcels,  books, 
and  letters  piled  upon  the  front  seat, 
roll  off  in  state  to  call  at  one  familiar 


226  JEMIMA: 

door  after  another, — and  still,  on  her 
return  at  the  accustomed  hour,  note 
no  other  change  than  what  the 
seasons  brought  in  the  scene  which 
met  her  eyes,  as  the  drawing-room 
door  opened  on  the  cheerful  tea- 
table  and  kindly  urn  ready  waiting. 

But  extend  her  drive,  or  take  tea 
elsewhere?  Not  she!  Not  Jemima 
Sillacombe! 

She  put  it  upon  her  mother;  but 
dear  mamma  would  have  eaten  her 
muffin  peacefully  enough  half  an 
hour  later,  if  it  had  been  suggested 
to  make  a  detour  on  the  homeward 
path.  No;  it  was  Jemima  herself 
whose  watch  came  out  by  instinct 
as  the  light  began  to  wane  on  an 
autumn  afternoon,  and  who  would 
out  with  the  order  "Home"  before 
Mrs.  Sillacombe  could  be  heard  on 
behalf  of  a  neglected  parcel  still  on 
the  seat  opposite. 

The  parcel  could  be  left  another 
day,  Jemima  would  affirm,  wrapping 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  227 

herself  briskly  in  her  driving-cloak. 
It  was  too  late  to  do  more  that 
day. 

Jemima  had  an  hour  for  every- 
thing, and  a  season  for  everything. 
Five  minutes  with  her  was  a  very 
much  longer  period  than  five  min- 
utes with  most  people. 

Then  she  always  knew  exactly 
where  she  ought  to  be  upon  the 
staircase  when  Thomas  issued  forth 
from  the  back  regions  to  roll  the 
gong  for  dinner,  and  what  she 
should  be  doing  when  he  was  heard 
placing  the  bedroom  candles  in  the 
anteroom,  preparatory  to  the  night's 
rest.  She  remembered  on  what 
days  the  housemaids  reigned  su- 
preme in  their  several  rooms, — she 
never  invited  people  to  dine  on 
Thursdays,  devoted  to  special  plate- 
cleaning  in  the  pantry, — and  she 
would  not  have  kept  coachman  and 
footman  out  beyond  their  own  tea 
hour  for  the  world. 


228  JEMIMA: 

"The  kindest,  oonsideratist  young 
lady  as  ever  was,"  Hubbard,  the 
butler,  would  declare — in  proof  of 
which  he  would  loftily  abstract  the 
newspaper  from  under  Jemima's 
very  nose.  But  a  young  and  pert 
housemaid  was  heard  to  cry  shrilly 
back  on  one  occasion,  "Lor1,  she 
ain't  nothen  but  an  old  maid  born, " 
which  made  Hubbard  very  angry 
indeed. 

"I  declare,  Jemima,  I  think  you 
are  the  most  enviable  person  in  the 
world."  The  speaker  was  Jemima's 
eldest  sister,  a  matron  of  forty-five, 
who  had  early  left  the  nest,  and  was 
now  every  inch  the  mother  of  a  fam- 
ily and  mistress  of  a  household. 
"You  are  always  so  cool  and  com- 
fortable," proceeded  Lady  Franklin, 
fanning  herself,  for  she  was  stout, 
and  the  warm  weather  tried  her 
severely,  "and  you  seem  to  have  time 
for  everything,  while  I  am  in  a 
'drive'  from  morning  till  midnight. 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  229 

And  there  is  Lenny's  tea-party  this 
afternoon,"  she  subjoined  in  an 
aggrieved  tone,  which  might  have 
been  interpreted,  "That  is  the  last 
straw. ' ' 

"To  be  sure.  His  birthday 
party."  Jemima  nodded  cheerful 
comprehension.  "I  am  coming, 
Caroline." 

"Are  you?  So  good  of  you." 
Lady  Franklin  paused  and  hesitated. 
"I  don't  know  how  I  am  ever  to  get 
it  in,  I  am  sure.  I  did  promise  the 
child,  but  I  did  not  take  in  that  it 
meant  my  flying  home  after  the  lec- 
ture, and  we  are  dining  out,  and — " 

"You  gay  person!" 

"Indeed,  I  am  not  gay,  but  I  am 
so  hurried  and  worried.  Jemima,  if 
I  should  be  late — you  know  what 
lectures  are — they  will  go  on  and  on, 
and  the  Dewhursts  are  particularly 
anxious  to  introduce  Professor 
Grimsel  afterwards — that  is  the  real 
reason  of  my  going — could  you, 


230  JEMIMA: 

would  you  mind,  if  I  were  not 
there,  sitting  down  with  the  chil- 
dren and  pouring  out  tea?  I  mean 
to  be  back,  of  course;  only,  if  I  am 
not " 

"You  can  depend  on  me.  Don't 
trouble  about  it,  Caroline.  I  have 
arranged  to  be  at  your  house  by 
four  o'clock,  and " 

"And  that  means  you  will  be 
there."  The  elder  lady's  brow 
cleared,  and  she  gave  a  sigh  of 
relief.  ' '  Lucky  you !  You  have  no 
one  to  throw  all  your  plans  into  con- 
fusion at  the  last  moment,  as  mine 
are  a  dozen  times  in  a  week.  You 
can  go  and  come  as  you  choose. 
Well,  it  is  something  off  my  mind,  at 
any  rate,  to  know  that  if  I  am  late — 
you  are  such  a  favourite  that  Lenny 
will  be  quite  satisfied  if  I  say  Aunt 
Jemima  is  .due  at  four  o'clock  for 
certain — and — and  it  doesn't  put  you 
out  of  your  way?"  having  now  a 
moment  for  the  afterthought. 


A   METAMORPHOSIS  23! 

"Not  at  all  out  of  my  way.  I 
have  kept  it  in  my  mind  ever  since 
you  told  me  you  were  giving  the 
party;  and  the  carriage  is  to  be 
round  half  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual,  and  dear  mamma  is  quite 
pleased  to  lunch  a  little  tiny  bit 
sooner  in  order  to  be  ready.  Then  I 
am  to  be  dropped  at  the  Grange  as 
we  drive  home,  and  Thomas  will 
bring  the  pony-cart  for  me  at  six, 
so  that  I  shall  just  get  home  in  time 
to  dress  for  dinner." 

A  twinkle  in  the  other's  eye  was 
lost  upon  the  speaker.  ("Goodness 
gracious!  To  hear  her!"  Lady 
Franklin  was  saying  to  herself,  be- 
twixt contempt  and  a  species  of 
envy,  "she  might  have  been  going 
to  Court  and  a  State  ball  afterwards, 
for  all  the  forethought  bestowed!") 
"You  have  certainly  a  genius  for 
organisation.  Jemima, ' '  observed 
she,  drily. 

"I  do  like  to  have  things  fit  in," 


232  JEMIMA: 

Jemima  bridled,  with  modest  elation, 
"and  it  is  quite  easy  by  just  giving 
one's  mind  to  it." 

"Humph!" 

"I  don't  speak  for  you,  Caroline. 
In  a  household  like  yours  there  must 
be  many  interruptions  and  hin- 
drances. But  with  me,"  the  spin- 
ster proceeded,  complacently,  "it  is 
quite  different.  I  have  only  dear 
mamma  to  consider;  and  really  our 
servants  are  so  good,  and  under- 
stand our  ways  so  thoroughly " 

"I  know — I  know.  Everything 
goes  on  oiled  wheels.  You  roll 
through  life  on  easy  cushions." 
Lady  Franklin  evinced  a  momentary 
impatience.  "And  you  always  look 
so  trim  and  smart,"  glancing  down 
at  herself,  and  again  back  at  the 
fresh,  flowering  muslin  which  made 
her  own  far  handsomer  dress  look 
dusty  and  shabby.  "I  really  have 
had  no  time  to  think  about  summer 
clothes, — but  you  are  always  in  the 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  233 

van.  I  said  yesterday,  when  I  saw 
the  first  light  bonnet  in  the  street — 
I  was  inside  Atkinson's  and  I  just 
saw  the  bonnet,  not  the  carriage, 
through  the  fallals  in  the  window — I 
said  to  Wynnie,  'That  must  be 
Aunt  Jemima.'  ' 

"Too  bad  of  you.  I  am  sure  I 
am  not  a  great  dresser." 

"It  isn't  that.  No;  I  don't  think 
you  dress  more  than  other  people. 
We  all  get  the  things  in  the  long- 
run — only,  you  are  the  first.  You 
have  the  time  to  attend  to  it,  and  to 
notice  that  the  season  is  here. 
There  you  are  now,  in  that  pretty 
muslin — and  it  is  very  becoming, 
Jemima — you  can  wear  a  muslin 
still — I  wish  /  could.  A  great  hot 
silk — I  wonder  if  I  could  not  have  a 
muslin  made  a  little  elaborately,  just 
for  the  very  warm  days?  I  shall  ask 
Miss  Johnston;  she  is  such  a  good 
dressmaker,  she  could — But  I  must 
not  run  on,  I  have  a  thousand  things 


234  JEMIMA  : 

to  do.  You  are  not  going  out  this 
morning?" 

"Only  to  the  garden.  The  roses 
are  ready  for  cutting " 

"Cutting  roses?  How  old  fash- 
ioned and  leisurely  it  sounds !  Dear 
me,  if  my  roses  were  to  wait  till  I 
had  time  to  cut  them " 

"Yours  are  wasted,  Caroline.  I 
always  lament  when  I  go  to  your 
rose  garden  that  no  one  thinks  of 
drying  them  for  the  rooms " 

"My  dear,  who  should  think?" 
Again  the  elder  sister  manifested  a 
certain  pettishness.  "Who  in  our 
house  has  time  for  those  fiddy-faddy 
businesses?  /  haven't.  The  girls 
are  at  their  lessons,  the  servants  at 
their  work.  If  we  have  visitors, 
they  want  to  be  taken  here,  there, 
and  everywhere.  It  is  only  you,  you 
fortunate  mortal,  you  petted-by-the- 
gods  Jemima  Sillacombe,  who  can 
take  into  your  scheme  of  life  even 
the  preservation  of  the  crumpled 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  235 

rose-leaf,  which  is  not  allowed  to  dis- 
turb the  surface  of  your  bed  of  down. " 

Laughing,  and  kissing  her  sister 
affectionately,  Lady  Franklin,  with 
recovered  good  -  humour,  rustled 
away;  and  Jemima,  having  first 
restored  to  its  place  an  antimacassar 
which  had  been  caught  on  the  point 
of  the  departing  parasol,  and  other- 
wise smoothed  down  disarrange- 
ments— for  Caroline  never  failed  to 
leave  disarrangements,  to  the  orderly 
eye — picked  up  her  basket  and 
scissors,  and  tripped  off  to  her  con- 
genial occupation  among  the  flower 
borders. 

She  had  been  detained  for  half  an 
hour ;  but  then,  she  always  reckoned 
on  such  a  chance  detention ;  so  told 
herself,  with  a  sense  of  being  sis- 
terly and  indulgent,  that  it  did  not 
put  her  out  of  her  way,  for  one  must 
always  take  into  account  a  married 
sister  living  within  a  few  miles  in  a 
country  neighbourhood. 


236  JEMIMA: 

"I  don't  suppose  Jemima  will  ever 
marry,"  cogitated  the  latter,  as  she 
consulted  her  watch  at  the  same 
moment  as  Jemima  smoothed  out 
the  antimacassar;  "she  is  far  too 
well  off  as  she  is.  Nothing  to  worry 
her,  no  one  to  interfere  with  her ;  no 
cares,  no  troubles,  no  anxieties. 
Even  when  our  mother  is  taken  from 
us — and  that  we  need  not  anticipate 
for  long  enough,  with  her  good 
health,  and  easy,  regular  life;  still, 
she  must  go  some  day — but  even 
then  Jemima  will  reign  on  here 
happily  enough.  She  will  be  quite 
able  to  afford  it;  and  with  the  old 
servants  about  her,  and  us  so  near, 
and  so  many  neighbours  besides,  she 
need  never  feel  lonely.  One  of  us 
sisters  could  always  spare  her  a  girl 
to  stop  with  her,  if  it  came  to  that ; 
or  Matilda  would  come  for  good, 
if  wanted.  She  has  her  poor  people, 
too,  and  her  parish  interests ;  and  is 
on  such  good  terms  with  everybody 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  237 

round  that,  upon  my  word,  most 
people  would  consider  her  the 
luckiest  creature  alive.  And  I  fancy 
she  would  call  herself  so."  A 
pause.  Then,  "I  wonder,  now — I 
wonder  if  a  single  woman  like 
Jemima  really  is  lucky?"  cogitated 
the  matron,  as  a  softer  expression 
stole  across  her  brow.  "She  always 
appears  to  be  absolutely  content 
and  serene.  Yet,  looking  at  the 
case  dispassionately,  it  seems,  if  one 
were  to  speak  plainly,  rather  a 
selfish  sort  of  happiness.  Not  that 
poor,  dear  Jemima  is  selfish,  only 
she  knows  no  better,  and  is  so 
entrenched  in  her  own  funny  little 
state,  that — well,  well,  it  can't  be 
helped.  And  I  don't  know  what 
possesses  me  to  think  there  is  any- 
thing that  needs  help,  when  I  am 
always  pretending  to  envy  my  sis- 
ter's easy  lot,  and  sometimes  do 
actually,  at  the  moment,  believe  my 
own  words!  I  wonder,  now ?" 


238  JEMIMA: 

But  she  soon  forgot  to  wonder.  Her 
own  multifarious  concerns,  which 
for  the  moment  had  been  in  abey- 
ance, were  again  buzzing  about  her 
like  so  many  flies,  and  shut  out 
every  other  point  of  the  landscape. 
As  usual,  she  was  late  in  arriving 
at  her  little  son's  birthday  party. 

The  party  was  in  full  swing,  and  a 
tremendous  chattering  and  laughing 
sounded  through  the  open  door  of 
the  room  in  which  it  was  assembled. 

"That  cannot  be  only  Jemima," 
swiftly  concluded  Jemima's  sister. 
The  next  minute— "Oh,  Bobby!" 
she  exclaimed,  in  surprise,  recognis- 
ing in  Sir  William's  youngest  brother 
the  author  of  the  merriment. 
"When  did  you  arrive?  We  had  no 
idea  you  were  in  England." 

Captain  Franklin  chuckled  like  a 
boy.  "No  more  has  any  one  else, 
my  dear.  Hold  hard.  Give  us  a 
fraternal  salute,"  kissing  the 
matronly  cheek,  which  blushed 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  239 

beneath  the  unaccustomed  tribute. 
"I  have  been  kissing  'em  all  round," 
proceeded  the  sailor,  triumphantly. 
"Had  to,  to  find  out  which  were  my 
nieces  and  which  weren't.  Crime 
first — punishment  afterwards. ' ' 

"But  he  didn't  kiss  Auntie  Jem, 
and  she  was  the  only  one  he  missed 
out,"  the  hero  of  the  day  shouted 
from  his  birthday  seat  of  honour 
with  the  full  force  of  his  seven-year- 
old  lungs,  an  announcement  which 
really  seemed  in  a  measure  neces- 
sary. "And  he's  brought  me  a  par- 
rot and  a  tortoise,  and  he  says " 

"He's  going  to  dance  a  horn- 
pipe," broke  in  a  still  shriller 
treble,  "and  he  says " 

"He's  going  to  take  us  all  to  the 
Circus,"  a  third  took  up  the  cry, 
"and  he  says " 

"And  he  says,"  appeared  to  be  the 
catch-word. 

Lady  Franklin  strove  in  vain  to 
be  heard  above  the  tumult;  she 


240  JEMIMA 

wanted  to  be  hospitable,  genial, 
welcoming-,  but  she  had  no  chance 
of  being  anything.  And  there  was 
Jemima,  too — the  din  must  be  abso- 
lutely deafening  to  poor  Jemima! 

A  vision  of  the  dainty  figure  in  its 
crisp  flounces  and  frills,  framed  by 
the  large,  solemn,  massively-fur- 
nished drawing-room,  which  had 
been  present  to  her  mind's  eye  by 
fits  and  starts  all  through  the  inter- 
vening hours,  stood  out  clearly  at 
the  moment.  She  felt  as  if  she 
must  rescue  her  gentle,  bewildered, 
little  old  maid  of  a  sister  from  this 
pandemonium. 

Tea  was  over,  and  she  could  at 
least  suggest  an  adjournment. 
"You  are  terribly  hot  in  here,  and  I 
see  you  have  finished ;  will  not  some 
of  you  like  to  come  to  another  room, 
or " 

"Uncle  Bobby  is  going  to  dance  a 
hornpipe."  A  dozen  small  voices 
rang  forth  together  like  a  peal  of 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  241 

bells;  while  Uncle  Bobby  himself, 
big,  brown-bearded,  jolly,  and  sun- 
burnt, beamed  acquiescence. 

"How  kind!  But  perhaps 
Jemima " 

"Aunt  Jem  wants  to  see  the  horn- 
pipe as  much  as  any  of  us."  And 
Aunt  Jem  smiled  assent. 

"You  poor  dear!"  murmured 
Lady  Franklin,  aside.  "Sailors 
have  such  overpowering  spirits," 
she  added  later,  putting  her  hand  to 
her  forehead. 

"Quite  delightful,"  responded 
Jemima,  as  though  she  had  been 
called  upon  to  acclaim. 

Lady  Franklin  looked  at  her. 
"Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that.  Yes,  of 
course.  Sir  William  always  says 
Bobby  makes  him  laugh  more  than 
any  one.  But  I  do  wish — Bobby's 
voice  is  so  very  loud,  and  his  laugh 
is  perfectly  stentorian,  and  he  never 
minds  who  is  here,  or  what  he  does, 
— but  of  course  I  know  he  is  a  dear 


242  JEMIMA; 

fellow,  and  as  good  as  gold,  and  has 
the  kindest  heart  in  the  world.  But, 
my  dear  Jemima,  I  did  feel  for  you. 
I  am  sure  if  my  head  aches,  yours 
must  be  ten  times  as  bad.  And 
after  your  putting  yourself  out  to 
come,  and  we  all  know  you  don't  like 
to  be  put  out  of  your  way " 

"No,  no;  I  am  going  to  convoy 
Miss  Jemima  home."  A  voice  in 
the  rear — a  frank,  bold,  confident 
voice — made  both  ladies  start  as  if  it 
had  been  a  pistol-shot. 

"I'm  coming  back,  you  ruffians," 
continued  the  same  speaker,  as  the 
swarming  crew  were  shaken  off  a  big 
central  figure,  and  Captain  Franklin 
emerged  to  view.  "You'll  have 
enough  of  me,  never  fear.  I'll  give 
you  some  fun  before  I'm  done  with 
you;  but  sheer  off  now.  Miss 
Jemima,  it  is  long  since  we've  met, 
but  we  are  relations  all  the  same,  or 
what  amounts  to  the  same  thing — 
you  must  let  me  see  you  across  the 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  243 

fields;  it  is  such  a  jolly  evening  for 
a  walk,  and  that  fellow" — lowering 
his  tone,  and  eyeing  a  young  and 
callow  footman  who  had  been  sent  to 
escort  his  mistress  home,  and  who 
was  now  endeavouring  to  assume  the 
correct  statuesque  attitude  with  only 
indifferent  success — "he  can  be  dis- 
pensed with,  can't  he?  We  don't 
want  him,  do  we?  'Tis  ever  so  much 
pleasanter  walking  than  driving; 
may  I  tell  him  to  trot  off  again?" 

"Good  heavens!  What  an  odd 
couple!"  cried  Lady  Franklin,  to  the 
group  who  stood  looking  after  the 
pair  that  started  presently.  "Poor 
Jemima!  There  was  no  way  out  of 
it.  I  could  hardly  help  laughing  at 
her  look  of  utter  confusion.  She 
who  never  sees  a  man — far  less  talks 
to  one — what  must  she  feel  to  find 
herself  let  in  for  a  two-mile  walk  all 
alone  with  such  an  extraordinary 
specimen  of  the  genus  sailor  as  Bob?" 

"Now,  do  tell  me,  Jemima,  what 


244  JEMIMA; 

you  found  to  talk  about,  and  how 
you  got  on,"  demanded  she  the  next 
day,  having  driven  over  on  purpose. 
"Bobby  declared  you  got  on  'like  a 
house  on  fire. '  But  then,  he  always 
4 gets  on  like  a  house  on  fire'  with 
everybody,  and  imagines  every  one 
else  does  the  same.  He  is  such  a 
rattle " 

"I  don't  think  you  should  call 
him  a  rattle,  Caroline. ' ' 

''''Not?  Not  a  boisterous,  bluster- 
ing  " 

"He  can  talk  most  sensibly  and 
agreeably.  As  soon  as  we  were 
alone,"  proceeded  Jemima,  with 
animation,  "he  quite  dropped  his 
jokes  and — and  chaff;  and  I  assure 
you  I  never  met  with  any  one  who — 
that  is  to  say,  we  found  plenty  of 
subjects  in  common,  and  we  agreed 
upon  some  of  them,  and,  when  we 
did  not,  I  was  quite  willing  to  be 
corrected,  for  he  has  seen  more  of 
life  than  I " 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  245 

"That  is  not  saying  very  rmich,  is 
it?  However,  I  am  glad  if  your 
ignorance  came  in  handy  on  the 
occasion.  I  have  always  heard  that 
any  and  every  kind  of  knowledge  is 
sure  to  come  in  useful  at  some  time 
or  other,  but  I  never  knew  before 
that  want  of  it  would.  So  Bobby 
instructed  you?  On  what  points?" 

"Ever  so  many.  What  a  wonder- 
ful career  he  has  had!  And  how 
much  he  has  seen  and  done!  I  do 
think  a  sailor's  must  be  a  most 
interesting  life.  We  were  looking 
at  the  Cathedral  tower " 

"The  Cathedral  tower?  From 
where  did  you  see  the  Cathedral 
tower?" 

"From— from  the  Beacon  Hill," 
faltered  Jemima;  then  gathered 
courage  and  proceeded:  "I  hope, 
Caroline,  that  I  did  not  do  anything 
impru  —  unconventional  —  I  mean 
anything  I  ought  not,  in  walking 
round  the  Beacon  with  your  brother- 


246  JEMIMA; 

in-law.  Of  course,  if  I  had  been  a 
girl — but  at  my  age,  and  he  is  over 
forty — and  Sir  William's  brother — it 
seemed  to  me  it  would  have  been 
ridiculous  if  I  had  made  an  objec- 
tion when  Captain  Franklin  proposed 
it.  I  did  hesitate,  and  then  his  evi- 
dent wonder  and  absolute  uncon- 
sciousness of  having  suggested 
anything  unusual  showed  me  at 
once  that  it  would  be  quite  silly  to 
make  a  fuss. ' ' 

"Of  course."  Lady  Franklin 
smiled  a  little  to  herself.  ("Make  a 
fuss,  indeed!  Poor  dear  thing! 
She  is  actually  blushing!  What  a 
perfect  innocent  she  is!")  "Now, 
Jemima,  there  is  something  I  want 
to  ask  you  to  do  for  me.  I  drove 
over  at  this  unearthly  hour  on  pur- 
pose; I  knew  you  would  not  have 
stirred  out  of  doors  yet.  Well,  now, 
listen  to  me,  there's  a  dear.  I  am 
taking  Bob  to  the  lawn-tennis  party 
at  the  Worthingtons  this  afternoon 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  247 

—I  had  not  meant  to  go,  but  his 
turning  up  so  unexpectedly  puts  out 
all  my  plans,  and  Sir  William  would 
not  like  it  if  I  were  to  turn  him 
adrift.  So  I  must  sacrifice  myself, 
as  usual,  and  drive  in  exactly  the 
opposite  direction  to  what  I  had 
intended.  But  as  I  know  you 
always  go  into  Maltburgh  on  a  Tues- 
day, will  you  call  at  the  library  and 
leave  this  list,  and  also  this  order  at 
the  butcher's,  and  this  prescription 
at  the  chemist's?  It  does  not  mat- 
ter about  waiting  to  have  it — the 
prescription — made  up.  They  can 
send  it  out ;  only,  it  ought  to  be  left 
early  in  the  afternoon;"  and  she 
proceeded  to  enlarge. 

Jemima  in  silence  accepted  the 
commissions.  She  certainly  did 
drive  into  Maltburgh  on  Tuesdays; 
it  was  her  invariable  rule  to  do  so ; 
and  any  deviation  from  her  rule 
would  have — no,  she  was  not  pre- 
pared to  deviate. 


248  JEMIMA: 

"Now,  Bobby,  I  am  going  to 
introduce  you  to  all  the  pretty  girls 
in  the  neighbourhood,"  quoth 
Bobby's  hostess,  a  few  hours  later, 
as  she  took  her  seat  in  an  open 
barouche  and  unfurled  her  parasol. 
"Rose  Hall,  Thomas." 

"Always  ready  for  pretty  girls," 
responded  her  companion,  promptly. 
"And  you  are  right  to  do  it  sharp, 
Caroline.  A  week  is  my  limit,  and 
then  I'm  off." 

"Only  a  week?" 

The  sailor  laughed.  "A  week  is  a 
week  to  us  jack-tars.  We're  bound 
to  scud  through  life  with  our  topsails 
flying.  I  shall  be  friends  with  every 
friend  of  yours  by  the  end  of  my 
week,  and — I  say,  I've  begun 
already.  Began  yesterday  with 
Miss  Jemima,  and  we're  quite 
chummy  to-day " 

"To-day?  But  you  haven't  seen 
her  to-day?" 

"Haven't    I    though?"       Captain 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  249 

Bob  laughed  again.  "You  had  not 
quitted  the  field  ten  minutes  before 
I  was  on  it.  We've  had  another 
walk " 

"No?" 

"I  strolled  over  to  pay  my  respects 
to  your  mother,  as  I  was  not  allowed 
to  go  in  yesterday,  and  found  your 
sister  just  starting  for  her  round  of 
poor  people  in  the  village.  I  went 
round  with  her." 

"My  dear  Bob!  With  Jemima? 
Why,  she  never  allows  any  one  to  go 
with  her  to  her  poor  people.  It 
must  have  put  her  dreadfully  out  of 
her  way. ' ' 

"I  dare  say  it  did, — but  she  didn't 
say  so.  I  asked  if  she  were  going  to 
this  tennis  party ' ' 

"Jemima  at  a  tennis  party!  I 
wish  I  had  heard  you.  What  did 
she  say?  Was  she  not  amused?" 

"Not  at  all.  What  was  there  to 
amuse?  I  thought  everybody  went 
to  tennis  parties.  I  thought  it  was 


250  JEMIMA: 

the  favourite,  not  to  say  the  only, 
form  of  dissipation  in  a  country 
place. ' ' 

"But  Jemima  never  goes  in  for 
dissipation.  I  don't  mean  to  say 
that  she  absolutely  abjures  tennis 
parties;  only,  if  she  appears  at 
them,  she  stays  about  half  an  hour, 
keeping  the  carriage  waiting  all  the 
time,  takes  a  sip  of  tea  and  a  stroll 
round  the  garden,  and  retreats  be- 
fore any  of  the  real  fun  of  the  fair 
begins.  She  never  goes  to  the 
Worthingtons'  at  all,  because  it  is  so 
far  off.  You  must  know  that 
Jemima  never  keeps  coachman  and 
horses  out  beyond  a  certain  hour; 
and  if  a  house  is  ever  so  pleasant, 
and  old  Jenkyns  declares — and  I 
believe  he  often  invents,  too — that 
it  is  a  mile  beyond  what  he  con- 
siders his  horses  can  do,  there  is  an 
end  of  the  matter.  Between  our- 
selves, Jemima  is  the  veriest  old 
maid " 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  251 

"/?  she?"  said  Bob,  significantly. 
His  eyes  danced  above  his  brown 
beard;  he  had  found  a  stimulus 
hitherto  wanting  in  his  smooth 
career. 

Five  days  passed,  and  Sunday 
came — a  midsummer  Sunday,  sweet 
and  heavy  with  odorous  blossoms, 
fiercely  hot  in  the  sun,  but  delicious 
in  the  shade.  Morning  service  and 
the  early  dinner  which  followed  in 
Mrs.  Sillacombe's  well-regulated 
household  were  over,  and  the  old 
lady  had  retired  to  doze  in  her  bed- 
room. 

Jemima  had  put  on  a  cooler  dress, 
and  laid  bonnet,  gloves,  parasol, 
and  prayer-book  on  her  bed,  in 
readiness  for  six  o'clock,  at  which 
time  she  would  again  sally  forth  in 
response  to  the  chiming  of  church 
bells.  Jemima  never  had  her 
accoutrements  put  back  in  wardrobe 
and  drawers  on  Sundays;  her 
maid's  services  were  dispensed  with 


252  JEMIMA: 

till  night;  and  she  invariably  laid 
out  the  little  array  upon  the  bed  in 
exact  parallel  lines. 

Having  done  so  on  the  present 
occasion,  there  was  a  slight,  a  very 
slight,  deviation  from  her  usual 
method  of  procedure:  instead  of 
walking  straight  to  the  arm-chair  by 
the  open  window,  as  was  her  wont, 
she  made  a  movement,  an  absent- 
minded  movement,  in  the  direction 
of  the  mirror,  and  from  her  toilet- 
table  took  up  a  comb.  Jemima's 
hair  curled  a  little,  naturally,  upon 
her  forehead.  With  the  tail  of  the 
tortoise-shell  comb  Jemima  drew 
down  the  little  curls  on  either  side 
of  the  parting,  and  poked  them 
about. 

She  then  took  up  a  hand-glass,  and 
deliberately  examined  the  side  view 
of  her  head  and  profile. 

Finally,  she  turned  straight  round 
and  looked  at  her  back. 

There  was  nothing  amiss  with  the 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  253 

back,  nor  yet  with  the  ruffled  frill  at 
the  neck;  while  as  for  the  hair,  it 
was  glossy,  trim,  and  dressed  to  per- 
fection— as  she  esteemed  perfection. 
A  shade  too  stiff  it  had  been  where 
the  rippling  waves  drew  back  from 
the  still  smooth  and  somewhat  pen- 
sive brow,  but  this,  as  we  know,  had 
been  rectified,  and  yet  it  was  a  full 
half-hour  ere  the  occupant  of  the 
luxurious  bedchamber  quitted  it, 
and,  gliding  downstairs,  passed 
through  a  side  door  which  opened 
into  the  garden. 

Jemima  was  going  to  read  her 
book  out  of  doors.  Here  was  inno- 
vation number  two  within  the  space 
of  sixty  minutes. 

Tripping  lightly  through  the 
flower  borders,  scarcely  distinguish- 
able amidst  their  brilliant  profusion, 
Miss  Sillacombe  made  her  way  to  a 
wooded  bank  which  sloped  towards 
the  west,  from  whence  a  lovely  view 
of  the  country  beyond  could  be 


254  JEMIMA; 

obtained,  including  —  but  of  that 
she  made  no  account,  of  course — 
the  path  which  any  one  coming 
from  the  Grange  would  probably 
traverse. 

Here  the  little  lady  paused  and 
instinctively  scrutinised  the  rustic 
seat  which,  under  the  cool  shade  of 
overspreading  boughs,  invited  a 
sojourn. 

Jemima  was  not  very  fond  of 
rustic  benches  with  ragged  pieces 
of  bark  protruding,  to  say  nothing 
of  earwigs  and  spiders.  She  would 
have  preferred  a  nice  clean  garden 
chair,  and  could  easily  have  carried 
one,  or  had  it  carried  for  her,  from 
the  cupboard  in  the  hall,  but  she 
could  not  exactly  have  suggested  any 
necessity  for  more  than  one,  and 
such  necessity  might  just  possibly 
arise.  She  preferred  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  spiders  and  bark,  and, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation  and  a 
little  careful  arrangement  of  her 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  255 

spotless  flounces,  settled  herself  and 
opened  her  book. 

A  hum  of  insects  and  the  tapping 
of  a  woodpecker  on  the  dry  stem  of 
a  fir  tree  close  behind,  alone  fell 
upon  her  ear  for  some  lapse  of  time ; 
yet  it  is  notable  that  even  the  snap 
of  a  dry  twig  or  the  rustle  of  a 
withered  leaf  caused  the  reader  to 
catch  her  breath  and  bend  a  little 
lower  the  head,  which  was  resolved 
to  show  it  was  not  going  to  incline 
towards  intrusive  sounds.  "He 
shall  find  me  calmly  reading,"  said 
Miss  Jemima,  to  herself. 

And  at  length  there  could  be  no 
mistake.  The  calmness,  the  de- 
corum, the  feint  of  entire  absorp- 
tion in  the  volume  which  lay  upon 
the  lady's  spotless  lap,  were  to  be 
called  into  play.  Steps  were  cer- 
tainly approaching. 

Pit-a-pat  goes  Jemima's  heart. 
Nearer  and  nearer  they  come — so 
near  are  they  now  that  a  more  wily 


256  JEMIMA: 

diplomatist  would  have  raised  a 
languid  eye  and  dreamily  investi- 
gated; but  those  of  our  modest 
spinster  were  still  nailed  to  the  open 
page,  when,  "Upon  my  word,  my 
dear  sister,  you  are  deaf  as  a  post!" 
was  shouted  almost  into  her  hat 
brim. 

' '  I  came  through  the  wood, ' '  pur- 
sued Lady  Franklin,  dropping  ex- 
haustedly  on  the  seat,  which  had 
been  brushed  with  a  view  to  another 
occupant.  "Though  it  is  so  much 
longer,  it  is  everything  to  have 
shade  on  a  day  like  this.  But  if  I 
had  known  it  was  so  hot,  I  should 
have  let  Bob  come  instead  of  me,  as 
he  offered  to  do.  I  did  half  let  him ; 
only,  I  thought  it  would  have  put 
you  out  of  your  way,  as  you  never 
do  have  visitors  on  3unda3rs. ' ' 

She  then  divulged  her  business, 
which  was  of  the  ordinary  type 
between  sisters  living  in  close  prox- 
imity, and  proceeded: 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  257 

"But  how  is  it  you  are  sitting  out 
here?  I  thought  you  all  went  to 
sleep  in  your  rooms  on  Sunday  after- 
noons. It  is  not  your  way  to " 

"My  way?"  For  once  the  poor 
badgered  Jemima  turned  a  red  cheek 
and  a  frown  upon  her  tormentor. 
"To  hear  you  talk,  Caroline,  one 
would  think  I  was  a  perfect  machine ! 
Can  I  do  nothing  that  is  not  'my 
way'  ?  I  do  wish' ' — then  the  speaker 
recollected  herself.  "It  is  not  my 
'way'  to  be  cross,  at  any  rate,  is  it, 
dear?"  she  smiled  a  little  ruefully; 
"but,  to  tell  the  truth,  you  startled 
me  just  now,  and  you  know  I  am  not 
accustomed  to  being  taken  by  sur- 
prise  ' ' 

"So  I  told  Bob.  I  caught  him 
sloping  off  in  this  direction,  and  he 
owned  he  was  just  going  to  look 
round  here, — you  know  he  always 
'drops  in'  and  'looks  round'  on 
people,  and  never  dreams  of  not 
being  welcome  anywhere,  —  and  I 


258  JEMIMA: 

said,  'You  will  only  put  Jemima  out 
of  her  way, ' — oh,  my  dear,  I  forgot 
it  vexed  you  to  hear  this, — but  the 
fact  is,  we  always  do  say  it.  And  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  me,  the  tiresome 
fellow  would  have  been  over  this 
evening,  just  when  you  were  start- 
ing for  church!  He  declared  he 
must  say  'Good-bye,'  as  he  is  off 
to-morrow, — and  Goodness  knows 
when  we  shall  see  him  again! — for 
though  he  is  leaving  the  Navy  after 
this  cruise,  no  one  has  the  slightest 
notion  where  he  proposes  to  settle 
down,  and  it  may  be  at  the  utter- 
most parts  of  the  earth, — but  I  said 
I  would  carry  all  messages,  for  you 
always  went  to  church  on  Sunday 
evenings,  and  would  not  like  to  be 
put  out  of — Ha!  ha!  ha!  I  am  afraid 
I  did  say  it,  Jemima;  and  I  assure 
you  Bob  was  quite  as  indignant  as 
you  are.  He  muttered  something  as 
if  he  thought  he  knew  better  than 
I  about  it.  Perhaps  you  really  would 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  259 

have  liked  him  to  come  and  say 
'Good-bye'?"  she  suggested,  as  with 
a  momentary  afterthought. 

"It — it  doesn't  matter,  Caroline." 

A  low,  faintly-uttered  response. 

"I  will  take  any  message  you  like, 
you  know." 

Jemima  was  silent. 

"Shall  I  wish  him  Bon  voyage?" 

Jemima  turned  away  her  head. 

"Jemima — Jemima  —  shall  I  let 
him  come  here  to-night?" 

A  running  tear  splashed  on  to  the 
page  of  Jemima's  book. 

"Yes,  go — go  in,  and  win!"  cried 
Lady  Franklin,  waving  her  handker- 
chief in  triumph  to  an  expectant 
figure,  as  she  almost  flew  home, 
stout  and  heavy  as  she  was,  ten 
minutes  afterwards.  "Go,  and  God 
speed  you.  Don't  lose  a  minute — 
not  a  minute.  My  dear  Bob,  I  am  so 
glad — so  happy.  I  can  hardly  speak. 
What  are  you  doing  out  here  in  the 


260  JEMIMA: 

open  sun?" — for  he  had  come  half- 
way to  meet  her  in  his  impatience, 
and  was  now  standing  open-mouthed 
in  the  midst  of  a  broiling,  dusty 
road,  all  unconscious  of  its  demerits. 
"Find  me  an  ounce  of  shade,  and  I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  you 
shall  own  I  am  cleverer  than  you 
ever  dreamed,  and " 

"And  kinder,"  cried  the  sailor, 
seizing  both  her  hands  and  wringing 
them  with  terrific  fervour.  ("Oh, 
my  rings!"  she  moaned  to  herself, 
as  they  dug  into  her  soft  flesh.  But 
she  uttered  no  syllable  aloud.) 

"But  for  your  putting  me  on  my 
mettle,"  continued  the  grateful 
brother,  "I  don't  know  that  the  first 
idea  of  such  a  thing  would  ever  have 
occurred  even  to  my  presumption. 
You  piqued  and  provoked  me, 
Caroline.  I  know  now  you  did  it  on 
purpose.  Then,  when  you  had  pre- 
pared the  ground,  you  let  fall  a 
seed  of  hope,  without  which  I  should 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  261 

never — but  no  matter.  Out  with 
your  tale !  Bless  you  for  it !  Go  on 

with  your  finding  your  sister " 

"Sitting  outside,  on  the  edge  of 
the  wood,  with  a  book  before  her 
upside  down!  A  fact;  it  was.  So 
deeply  interested  that  she  never 
heard  me  till  I  was  looking  over  her 
shoulder!  Then  such  a  start,  and 
such  blank,  instantaneous,  unmis- 
takable disappointment!  It  is  too 
bad  of  me  to  reveal  the  secret  of  that 
dear  innocent  heart;  and  if  I  had  not 

known  your  feelings !     But,  my 

dear  brother,  you  must  never  betray 
me.  No,  indeed ;  not  through  years 
and  years  to  come.  Jemima  pos- 
sesses what  is  a  very  rare  treasure 
in  these  days,  a  real  sense  of 
delicacy;  and  it  would  be  outraged 
— I  am  quite  in  earnest  when  I  say 
this — by  her  knowing  that  I  went 
there  this  afternoon  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  spy  out  the  land  for 
you.  We  must  keep  our  own  secret 


262  JEMIMA: 

— at  any  rate  until  the  wedding  is 
over.  I  thought  it  was  all  right;  but 
with  a  person  like  my  sister  I  could 
not  be  sure — she  was  so  very  careful, 
so  very  anxious  not  to  betray  her- 
self. And  then,  you  know,  I  feared 
that  from  her  point  of  view  she  had 
so  much  to  lose. ' ' 

' '  So  she  has. "  Captain  Franklin '  s 
brow  slightly  clouded. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  She  will  gain  a 
hundred  thousand  times  the  value  of 
every  item.  Look  at  the  two  sides  of 
the  question.  Would  you  put — would 
any  true-hearted  man  or  woman  put 
— comfort,  luxury,  leisure,  and  an 
empty,  barren  life  (for  that  is  what  it 
amounts  to  in  dear  Jemima's  case) — 
against  the  love  of  a  good  man,  the 
devotion  of  a  warm,  honest  heart, 
the  pleasures  of  companionship,  the 
fresh  sympathies  and  interests,  the 
myriads  of  new  friends,  the  very 
self-sacrifices  so  dear  to  a  gentle, 
womanly  soul?"  (She  had  been  say- 


A   METAMORPHOSIS  263 

ing  this  so  often  to  herself  that  it 
now  poured  out  as  from  a  pent 
fountain-head.)  "Oh,  my  dear 
Bob,"  cried  the  affectionate  crea- 
ture, her  eye  moist  before  the  pic- 
ture she  had  conjured  up,  "have  no 
fears;  there  will  not  be  a  happier 
woman  in  all  the  countryside  than 
your  wife.  You  may  have  to  live  in 
a  cottage,  and  jog  her  about  in  a 
pony-cart,  and  rake  your  own 
gravel,  and  mow  your  own  lawn — 
she  will  find  it  all  delightful.  Her 
sweet  nature  is  cramped  and  warped 
as  it  is ;  it  will  expand  beneath  your 
so-called  privations.  Jemima  will 
grow  younger  every  year " 

"She  will— she  will." 

"Of  course  she  will.  Instead  of 
rule  and  rhythm,  starched  primness 
and  narrow-mindedness — (those  are 
not  the  real  fruits  of  Jemima's 
nature,  only  the  weeds  of  the  soil) — 
we  shall  have  her  joining  in  every 
freak,  trotting  at  your  heels  to  every 


264  JEMIMA: 

gathering,  turning  upside  down  all 
her  old  notions, — you  are  the  very 
man  for  her;  I  long  to  see  the  day. 
Away  with  you  now;  you  will  catch 
her  somewhere,  somehow.  I  leave 
it  in  your  hands;  only,  if  I  don't  see 
you  both  come  smiling  in  to  supper 
this  evening " 

And    in    they  came. 

And  every  prediction  above  re- 
corded was  fulfilled  to  the  letter. 
Indeed,  it  was  quite  a  joke  to  the 
county  the  fashion  in  which  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Franklin  conducted  their 
married  life.  They  never  did  any- 
thing like  other  people;  they  never 
knew  where  they  were  going  or  what 
they  were  likely  to  be  about.  They 
dashed  hither  and  thither — always 
together — always  radiantly  happy 
and  good-humoured — always  ready 
for  anything  and  everything  that 
turned  up.  When  •  Jemima  saw  her 
sister  Matilda  (a  widow,  who  thank- 
fully succeeded  to  her  place  as 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  265 

daughter  at  home,  only  bargaining 
that  her  children  should  be  estab- 
lished there  also,  which  Lady  Frank- 
lin said  was  quite  proper  and 
natural),  when  Jemima  saw  the 
widow  roll  off  in  the  well-known 
barouche  from  a  social  gathering, 
long  before  any  one  else  thought  of 
moving,  and  remembered  that 
Matilda  was  now  as  punctilious 
about  servants'  meals  and  horses' 
legs  as  she  had  once  been,  she 
chuckled  to  herself  as  she  gaily 
waved  a  parting  hand;  and  she 
smiled  again  broadly  and  contentedly 
as  she  jogged  home  beneath  the 
moon,  four  or  five  hours  later,  she 
and  her  husband  having  been  kept 
almost  by  force  to  an  impromptu 
supper  and  a  merry  evening.  These 
sort  of  impromptus  rapidly  grew  to 
be  the  most  natural  things  in  the 
world,  in  her  eyes. 

When  a  voice  would  be  heard  peal- 
ing    through     the     small     domain, 


266  JEMIMA: 

"Jemima — Jemima — get  on  your 
togs,  and  come  for  a  day's  outing," 
at  the  smallest  possible  notice, 
Jemima  flew  to  obey,  and  flew 
past  the  clock  without  ever  once 
glancing  at  it. 

And  she  never  troubled  to  inquire 
how  or  when  she  was  to  find  time 
for  this  and  that,  which  had  to  be 
done  sometime.  She  dashed  off 
notes  instead  of  writing  letters. 
She  kept  whole  flower  borders  in 
blossom  instead  of  snipping  roses. 
She  read  newspapers  and  magazines, 
and  knew  what  was  going  on  in  all 
sorts  of  out-of-the-way  places,  in- 
stead of  contenting  herself  with  the 
Court  Circular  and  the  leading  para- 
graphs. 

She  revelled  in  hospitality,  and 
Bob's  friends  wired  they  were  com- 
ing down  upon  her  to  luncheon 
or  dinner  without  an  instant's  hesi- 
tation. She  walked  through  the 
mud  to  meet  them  at  the  station,  if 


A    METAMORPHOSIS  267 

Bob  couldn't  go  and  the  pony  was 
needed. 

One  and  all  agreed  she  was  the 
j oiliest  little  bride — and  when  the 
baby  came ! 


THE  JUBILEE   SEAT 


The  Jubilee  Seat 


Kent  is  a  pleasant,  sweet-smelling 
county  to  dwell  in;  it  is  also  cheap 
and  convenient  for  a  battered  old 
sea  captain,  who  has  done  with  tar 
and  pitch  and  ocean  waves,  and  has 
a  wife  and  family  to  think  of.  Cap- 
tain Butterworth  —  good  old  Tom,  of 
the  Mary  Jane,  who  had  faithfully 
served  her  owners  for  many  a  year, 
and  was  now  pensioned  off  and  rheu- 
matic —  had  fancied  that  the  ruddy 
woods  and  chalky  hollows  of  his 
birthplace  would  suit  him  in  more 
respects  than  one  when  looking 
about  for  some  quiet  haven  in  which 
to  cast  his  final  anchor  ;  and  he  had 
found  as  snug  a  berth,  according  to 
himself,  as  ever  an  old  decrepit 

salt  could  swing  his  hammock  in. 
271 


272  THE    JUBILEE   SEAT 

In  other  words,  he  had  succeeded 
in  turning  a  pretty  and  comfortable 
farmhouse  into  as  close  a  resem- 
blance to  a  taut  merchantman  as 
masts,  figureheads,  and  every  sort  of 
marine  relic  erected  at  intervals 
could.  Purfoy  Farm  was  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  neighbours,  and  its 
decoration  and  embellishment  the 
very  breath  of  old  Butterworth's 
nostrils. 

The  captain  himself  was  the  only 
man  about  the  place.  He  had  a 
wife  and  several  daughters,  while  a 
couple  of  country  lasses  did  the 
rough  work  of  the  establishment; 
but  as  the  worthy  fellow  had  been 
shrewd  enough  to  shut  his  eyes  to 
the  blandishments  of  agricultural 
agents,  and  positively  limit  his 
energies  and  his  expenditure  to  the 
small  garden  and  paddock  which 
went  with  the  farmhouse — permit- 
ting others  to  annex  its  hop-fields 
and  pasture-lands — he  had  no  need 


THE    JUBILEE    SEAT  273 

of  male  hands  other  than  his  own ; 
and  mowed  his  own  grass,  cut  his 
own  vegetables,  and  shook  down  the 
fruit  from  his  own  orchards  year  in 
and  year  out,  with  a  cheery  zest  and 
independence,  that  it  did  one's  heart 
good  to  see. 

Inside,  it  is  true,  Mrs.  Butter- 
worth  held  her  sway,  and  it  was  the 
by  no  means  inconsiderable  one  of 
an  invalid — an  invalid  to  whom  was 
brought  every  item  of  household 
intelligence,  before  whom  every 
plan  was  laid,  and  without  whose 
sanction  nothing  could  be  under- 
taken. 

From  her  couch  in  the  low  parlour 
window,  round  which  in  summer  the 
roses  swung  and  clustered,  the  pale 
sweet  face  was  ready  with  its  smile, 
and  the  thin  white  hand  with  its 
wave  of  recognition  to  every  passing 
figure,  and  there  were  two  at  least  of 
the  home  circle  who  never  failed  to 
look  round  and  shout  a  greeting  or 


274  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

remark,  whenever  they  came  within 
range  of  those  patient,  watchful 
eyes. 

"Ho,  old  girl,  got  you  a  nice 
bunch  of  turnips  this  morning!" 
The  captain  would  pause  in  his 
trudge  up  the  little  path,  put  down 
his  basket,  and  hold  up  in  review  its 
contents.  ("She  likes  to  see  every- 
thing," he  would  say  to  himself.) 
Anon  it  would  be,  "Now,  Bess,  I'm 
off  to  take  a  turn  with  the  mowing- 
machine.  I  sha'n't  be  round  here  for 
a  bit  yet;  but  you'll  hear  me  and  it 
going  along.  You'll  know  where  we 
are.  We  start  at  the  far  end  of  the 
grass,  and  work  this  way,  in  and  out. 
When  you  hear  us  stop,  we  shall  be 
at  the  walnut  tree.  We  turn  there 
and  go  back.  (She  likes  to  hear  all 
about  it,"  he  would  nod  himself  off, 
his  sunburnt  face  glazing  gaily  in  the 
sun.) 

Molly,  too,  remembered  that  her 
mother  liked  to  hear  about  things. 


THE    JUBILEE    SEAT  275 

Molly  would  bring  peas  and  goose- 
berries to  shell  or  husk  beneath  the 
window,  and  always  took  care  to 
have  something  on  hand,  which 
brought  her  there,  at  what  time 
her  father's  manifold  duties  lay  in 
other  directions.  They  arranged 
this  together.  Ernestine,  the  next 
daughter,  was  not  to  be  depended 
upon.  Ernestine  would  promise  and 
forget. 

Moreover,  Ernestine  could  not  see 
why  her  mother  could  not  sometimes 
be  left  alone  for  an  hour  or  two, 
since  mother  herself  declared  she 
was  happy  and  content  with  her 
books  and  work.  Could  she  not  take 
a  nap,  if  her  eyes  were  tired? 

And  Ernestine  did  think  it  was 
rather  absurd  the  way  in  which  her 
father  and  Molly  flew  to  the  window 
with  every  silly  piece  of  news,  how- 
ever trifling;  as  if  it  could  possibly 
interest  any  one  to  hear  that  a  Sun- 
day school  treat  was  passing  along 


276  THE   JUBILEE    SEAT 

the  lane,  or  that  the  miller's  cart 
had  broken  down  going  over  the 
bridge  where  the  two  streams  met! 
Ernestine,  or  Nesta,  as  she  was 
called  in  the  home  circle,  was,  to  tell 
the  truth  at  once,  the  only  discordant 
member  of  it.  The  younger  sisters, 
the  school-girls,  Amy  and  Prilly, 
were  as  full  of  spirits,  as  good- 
humoured,  amiable,  and  affectionate 
as  the  jolly  captain  and  his  first- 
born; but  Nesta  was  "difficult  " 

"We  put  it  down  to  her  having 
been  brought  up  by  an  aunt — owing 
to  my  being  away  in  the  West 
Indies,  and  mother  ill. "  This  from 
the  worthy  captain  in  confidence. 
"We  think  the  good  lady — to  be 
sure,  she  meant  well,  and  Nesta  is 
her  god-daughter — but  the  fact  re- 
mains that  Mrs.  Miller  put  ideas 
into  our  girl's  head.  Seems  as  if  she 
couldn't  settle  down  to  our  small 
ways  and  be  comfortable,  after  the 
grand  house  in  St.  George's  Square. 


THE    JUBILEE    SEAT  277 

She  always  harps  upon  London. 
But  Mrs.  M.  has  girls  of  her  own  to 
take  about  now,  and  Nesta  don't  get 
asked  as  she  used  to.  Her  cousins 
ain't  exactly  handsome,  d'ye  see? 
Well,  it's  not  for  me  to  say,  but  they 
tell  me — folks  who  ought  to  know 
do — that  Nesta  is  too  pretty  a  crea- 
ture to  be  made  free  of  any  house 
full  of  daughters.  And  she  is  not 
just  what  you  may  call  easy  to  get 
on  with.  There's  Molly  now — that 
lassie  never  wants  anything  for  her- 
self. It's  always,  'Oh,  that  will  just 
do  for  mother,'  or,  'That's  the  very 
thing  Nesta  was  longing  for,'  and 
Miss  Nesta  takes  it  as  if  it  were  her 
right!  Still,  I  am  not  denying  she's 
a  pretty  creature — at  least,  so  folks 
tell  me" — hastily  correcting  himself 
— "and  if  she  had  never  been  at 
that  horrid  house — if  Jessie  Miller 
had  never  taken  her  up,  and  put 
it  into  her  head  to  look  down  on 
plain  ways,  and  fret  after  finery  and 


278  THE    JUBILEE   SEAT 

tomfoolery,  she  would  never  have 
thought  of  it  for  herself.  But  there ! 
She's  our  daughter,  mother's  and 
mine,  and  she  must  have  some  stuff 
in  her,  bless  her!"  the  old  voice 
would  round  off  in  a  contented 
chirrup,  and  the  momentary  cloud 
which  the  thought  of  Nesta's  aunt 
and  the  house  in  St.  George's  Square 
(to  his  simple  mind  the  apex  of 
fashion)  never  failed  to  evoke,  would 
pass  from  the  speaker's  brow. 

"It  is  a  pity  she  always  reads  the 
London  papers,"  said  Mrs.  Butter- 
worth. 

But  Ernestine  refused  to  see  that 
any  harm  could  come  from  London 
papers.  Her  father  read,  and  why 
not  she? 

Moreover,  she  took  in  the  Queen; 
and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  not  an 
entertainment  was  given,  not  an 
engagement  announced,  nor  a  piece 
of  society  gossip  chronicled  that 
Ernestine  Butterworth— albeit  the 


THE    JUBILEE    SEAT  279 

names  of  those  concerned  were  to 
her  but  names  and  nothing  more — 
did  not  pore  over  the  lines,  and 
find  in  them  food  for  envy  and 
desire. 

And  now  we  must  proceed  with 
our  little  story. 

The  month  was  June,  and  the  year 
the  recent  one  of  glorious  com- 
memoration. Nothing  was  being- 
thought  of  or  talked  of  but  the 
Diamond  Jubilee,  and  ways  and 
means  of  viewing  the  Royal  Prog- 
ress. 

"That  settles  it,"  said  Captain 
Butterworth,  laying  down  paper  and 
spectacles  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
"I  had  thought — well",  I  didn't  see 
the  last  Jubilee,  being  at  sea;  and 
none  of  you  girls  saw  it  either — so  I 
did  think  that  maybe  if  a  guinea 
would  have  done  the  lot " 

"A  guinea!"  It  was  Ernestine's 
scornful  voice  which  struck  in.  "A 
guinea!  Why,  dear  me,  father,  one 


280  THE   JUBILEE    SEAT 

would  suppose  you  never  read  any- 
thing, and  never  even  heard  people 
talk.  The  seats  are  to  be " 

"Aye,  aye,  lass,  hold  hard;  the  old 
man  is  neither  so  blind  nor  so  deaf 
as  you  think.  I  know  well  enough — 
it  is  plain  enough  here,"  tapping 
with  his  glasses  the  outspread  sheet 
upon  his  knee,  "what  folks  will  have 
to  pay  who  want  to  see  their  Queen 
on  Jubilee  Day,  and  what  I  say  is, 
that  settles  the  question.  The  sight 
is  not  for  us;  not  for  poor  people, 
who  haven't  strength  to  stand  in  the 
streets — " 

' '  To  stand  in  the  streets !  I  should 
think  not,  indeed." 

"You  are  as  like  to  stand  as  you 
are  to  sit,  my  girl,"  said  the  old  cap- 
tain, quietly ;  and  took  out  his  pipe. 
An  obstinate  look  had  stolen  over 
his  features ;  the  lips  protruded,  the 
shaggy  eyebrows  knitted  themselves 
together. 

"It's  all  up  now,"  muttered  Ernes- 


THE   JUBILEE    SEAT  281 

tine,  beneath  her  breath.  She  knew 
the  signs. 

But  although  the  case  was  desper- 
ate, she  could  not  bring  herself  to 
hold  her  tongue. 

"You  need  not  at  least  tantalise  us 
by  saying  what  might  have  been, ' ' 
she  cried,  passionately.  "It  is  bad 
enough,  as  it  is.  And  here  is  Cousin 
Mat  coming  home  from  Australia — 
coming,  he  says,  on  purpose  to  see 
the  Procession,  and  the  part  their 
fellows  take  in  it.  He  will  think  it 
odd  that  not  one  of  us,  his  own  rela- 
tions and  the  only  ones  he  has,  can 
even  go  up  from  here — an  hour's 
journey — while  he  crosses  the  ocean, 
travels  thousands  and  thousands  of 
miles — " 

"With  thousands  and  thousands  of 
pounds  to  do  it  on.  Mat's  a  rich 
man,  I  am  a  poor  one.  He  can 
afford  whatever  he  chooses;  and  I 
think  all  the  better  of  him  for  being 
keen  enough  about  the  honour  of  his 


282  THE   JUBILEE    SEAT 

colony  and  all  that;  I  think  he  is 
doing  the  right  thing  to  make  a  dash 
for  the  old  country,  and  send  up  his 
cheer  for  the  Queen  among  the  rest 
of  us." 

"The  rest  of  us?     I  wish  it  were." 

"Even  though  he  has  to  start  off 
in  a  fortnight's  time,"  pursued  the 
old  seaman,  unheeding.  "He  calls 
it  a  'short  stay, ' — I  don't  see  that. 
We  were  rarely  longer  at  any  port ; 
and  no  doubt  Mat  will  put  enough 
into  that  blessed  fortnight  to  last 
him  for  a  lifelong  memory.  'Twill 
be  something  to  look  back  upon  all 
his  days. ' ' 

' '  But  we  are  to  see  nothing  of  it, ' ' 
said  Ernestine,  bitterly.  "And  he 
wrote  that  he  hoped  to  'join  our 
party,'  and  would  'help  to  escort  his 
fair  cousins.'  How  mean  and 
shabby  he  will  think  us!  How 
amazed  and  disgusted  he  will  be!" 

"Can't  help  that,  my  girl;"  the 
captain,  whose  pipe  was  now  alight, 


THE   JUBILEE    SEAT  283- 

smoked  in  affected  unconcern  which 
hid,  as  it  was  meant  to  do,  a  not 
inconsiderable  share  of  his  own  per- 
turbation. He  did  not  mean  to  give 
in ;  and  the  best  armour  in  which  he 
could  encase  this  resolution  was  that 
of  outward  indifference.  Let  Nesta 
once  perceive  that  he  was  vulnerable 
on  the  point  of  supposed  meanness, 
that  he  dreaded  confessing  to  his 
prosperous  nephew  the  scantiness 
of  resources  which  compelled  him 
to  forego  witnessing  the  Royal  Pro- 
cession, and  she  would  certainly  take 
advantage  of  his  weakness.  Happily 
she  had  some  pride;  she  could  be 
depended  upon  not  to  let  fall  the 
slightest  hint  which  could  be  con- 
strued into  an  appeal,  when  Mat,  the 
Australian,  turned  up;  but  she 
would  give  her  own  people  no  peace. 
He  must  hold  her  at  bay. 

Accordingly,  he  smoked  either  in 
silence  or  with  an  occasional  sarcasm 
which  had  all  the  effect  he  could 


284  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

have  hoped.  The  beauty  was  in 
tears  at  last,  tears  of  mortification 
and  anger. 

"If  he  even  minded,  it  would  not 
seem  so  cruel,"  sobbed  she  to  Molly, 
recounting  the  interview,  "but  father 
is  so  hard-hearted.  One  would  think 
he  had  never  been  young  and — and 
pretty. " 

Molly  laughed  at  her ;  turned  the 
joke  against  her;  finally  gave  her 
one  gentle,  positive  assurance  that 
the  thing  could  not  be  done — and  a 
sudden  sigh  escaped  as  she  spoke. 

"I  know  you  care,"  quoth  Nesta, 
slightly  mollified,  "you  have  been 
thinking  and  thinking  of  it  as  well 
as  I.  What  I  thought  was,  if  we  two 
could  have  gone,  and  Mat  with  us — " 

"It  would  have  been  nice,  awfully 
nice.  He  would  have  known  so 
much  about  it.  And  he  would  have 
told  us  who  the  big  people  were; 
and  we  would  have  cheered  his 
Colonials." 


THE   JUBILEE   SEAT  285 

"And  we  would  have  worn  our 
white  hats  and  frocks,"  Ernestine 
shook  her  brown  curls  sorrowfully. 
"We  have  been  keeping  them  for 
this  all  along.  And,  Molly,  what 
vexes  me  more  than  anything  is  that 
all  those  Miller  girls,  every  single 
one  of  them,  is  going;  they  have 
had  their  seats  for  ever  so  long 
in  the  Borough;  not  the  best,  of 
course ;  but  as  good  as  any  of  their 
set  have  got,  and  I  did  think  father 
could  have  afforded  us  the  same. 
Two  guineas  each  is  not  so  very 
much;  and  if  Mat " 

"I  doubt  if  Mat  would  be  content 
with  those  seats,"  quoth  Molly, 
shrewdly. 

"Oh, "  said  her  sister.  Ernestine, 
for  all  her  experience  in  St.  George's 
Square,  was  not  as  wise  in  the 
world's  ways  as  the  keener-witted, 
more  observant  girl  by  her  side. 

"I  think  you  are  wrong,"  she  said, 
however,  after  a  minute's  pause. 


286  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

"Any  one  would  be  willing  to  do 
what  the  Millers  do;  they  know 
what's  what;  and  if  we  had  a  chance 
of  seats  in  the  Borough — ' ' 

"Of  course  we  would  jump  at 
them.  My  dear,  who  am  I,  or  who 
are  you,  to  turn  up  our  noses  at  seats 
in  the  gutter,  let  alone  the  Borough, 
if  they  came  in  our  way?  But  the 
thing  is,  Nett,  that  we  haven't  the 
money.  We  have  not  got  it;"  very 
emphatically.  "It  isn't  only  the 
seats,  there  would  be  the  train  tick- 
ets both  ways;  and  we  should  have 
to  sleep  in  town,  and  the  getting  to 
our  places — what  are  the  Millers 
doing  about  that?"  she  inquired, 
suddenly. 

"They  are  breakfasting  at  five, 
and  are  to  be  in  their  room  by  six 
o'clock,"  owned  Nesta,  reluctantly. 
"They  have  made  out  the  whole 
thing,  and  kept  talking  about  it  be- 
fore me  all  the  time  I  was  there  on 
Thursday.  When  I  said  we  had 


THE    JUBILEE   SEAT  287 

nothing  arranged,  they  looked  at 
each  other,  and  Ethel  and  Annie 
exclaimed  both  at  once:  'You  poor 
things!'  I  said  something  about  our 
running  up  for  the  day,  and  you 
should  have  seen  Aunt  Jessie's  face. 
Oh,  of  course,  we  should  have  to 
sleep  in  London." 

"There,  you  see!" 

"All  the  same,  it  is  too  bad.  We 
are  not  as  poor  as  hundreds  of  people 
who  are  going;  those  dreadful  little 
Spratts  have  seats  in  St.  James's 
Palace,  think  of  it!  St.  James's 
Palace!  No  one  knows  how  they 
got  them;  but  I  suppose  through 
some  of  the  servants.  And  Mar- 
garet Robsen  is  to  be  at  the  War 
Office ;  and  it  seems  as  if  everybody 
could  get  in  somewhere  except  our- 
selves," tears  again  rising,  "it  will 
seem  to  Mat  as  if  only  his  relations 
of  all  the  people  in  England  could 
not  crawl  into  a  corner  to  see  the 
great  Jubilee  Procession." 


288  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

Molly  turned  away  without  speak- 
ing. She  felt  as  if  for  once  her 
sister,  the  sister  who  often  talked  so 
foolishly  and  irrelevantly,  were  in 
the  right. 

"Is  there  no  way  in  which  it  could 
be  managed?"  was  now  Nesta's  cry, 
recurred  to  at  shorter  and  shorter 
intervals.  The  poor  girl  really 
suffered;  and  there  was  nothing  to 
distract  her  thoughts,  for  every  one 
who  came  to  Purfoy  Farm  was  full 
of  the  one  theme,  and  she  had  to 
hear  its  changes  rung  from  every 
point  of  view. 

"The  thing  is  growing  into  a  per- 
fect nuisance!"  muttered  Captain 
Butterworth  at  last. 

Only  Molly  felt  for  and  with 
Ernestine.  "It  is  hard  to  be  so 
pretty  and  bright,  and  feel  that  she 
could  enjoy  everything  so  much,  and 
that  perhaps  Mat  would  admire  her 
and  fall  in  love  with  her;  oh,  what 
nonsense  I  am  talking!"  cried  the 


THE    JUBILEE   SEAT  289 

little  homely  sister,  blushing  at  her- 
self, "but  I  do  think  Nett  has  more 
to  be  said  for  her  than  father  and 
mother  imagine.  They  cannot 
enter  into  a  girl's  feelings.  They 
do  not  even  see,  because  I  don't 
grumble  aloud  as  poor  Nesta  does, 
that  I  am  in  my  heart  hankering 
after  the  fun  too.  I  don't  know 
when  I  have  cared  about  anything 
so  much." 

This  "caring"  of  her  sister  \vas  in 
truth  Ernestine's  only  consolation. 
The  two  for  once  felt  alike,  and  drew 
together  in  a  common  grief.  In- 
stead of  going  to  bed  each  apart  in 
her  own  little  chamber,  Nesta  half- 
shyly  at  first,  more  confidently  after- 
wards, was  heard  to  tap  at  Molly's 
door,  and,  brush  in  hand,  suggest 
that  the  night  was  too  hot  for  bed  all 
at  once,  and  that  the  two  might  talk 
for  a  while  in  Molly's  little  dormer 
window  which  stood  open.  Perhaps 
it  was  these  talks  which  drew  from 


290  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

Molly  that  gentle  defence  of  her 
sister  and  those  excuses  which  at 
once  exasperated  her  father  and 
moved  him  to  admiration.  "If  that 
isn't  the  sweetest  little  nature  in  the 
whole  world!"  he  would  exclaim. 
But  he  found  Ernestine  more  and 
more  "difficult." 

'  Ton  my  word,  you  don't  deserve 
it!"  But  pleasure  shone  in  Captain 
Butterworth's  eyes  as  he  hurried  up 
from  the  small  gate  of  his  domain 
with  an  open  telegram  in  his  hand. 
"Here,  you  monkey,"  throwing  it  to 
his  younger  daughter,  and  still  keep- 
ing up  a  pretence  of  high  disdain, 
"here's  your  precious  Jubilee  seat 
come  at  last.  You  have  worried  for 
it  enough  in  all  conscience." 

"Oh,  father— father,  it  really  is! 
Mother,  do  you  hear?"  Nesta  with 
blazing  blue  orbs  turned  to  one  and 
the  other  in  her  ecstasy  of  exulta- 
tion. "And  to  go  with  them— the 


THE    JUBILEE   SEAT  291 

Millers — and  sleep  at  their  house 
both  nights  and  perhaps  longer! 
Oh,  how  good,  how  kind!  Dear 
Aunt  Jessie!  Molly,"  as  Molly, 
attracted  by  the  outcry,  came  flying 
up,  "Molly,  dear,  only  hear  the  news  • 
Aunt  Jessie  has  sent  for  one  of  us" 
• — on  a  sudden  the  speaker's  voice 
stopped  short  as  though  it  had  seen 
a  ghost. 

Molly,  however,  perceived  noth- 
ing. 

"For  the  Jubilee?"  cried  she,  in 
answering  excitement.  "Oh,  how 
glorious,  how  delightful!  Let  me 
see  the  telegram.  Why,  it  is  to  go 
up  this  afternoon !  Father,  we  must 
send  to  Surrey's  about  the  pony-cart 
at  once.  I  can  go.  Only,"  she 
paused.  "I  ought  to  help  you  with 
your  packing,  Nett.  But  if  you 
could  run  up  now,  and  put  out  your 
things,  I  could  be  back  in  time  to  do 
the  rest.  The  5 :3o  train  will  do. 
Is  there  any  answer,  father?" 


2p2  THE   JUBILEE   SEAT 

4 'Answer  went  straight  away,  my 
lass.  Your  old  dad  knew  what  it 
would  be.  There  was  no  need  to 
consult  you  this  time,  and  the  reply 
was  pre-paid. ' ' 

"What  did  you  say?"  demanded 
Ernestine,  in  rather  a  low  voice. 

"Say?  Said  'All  right,  and  many 
thanks.'  Short  and  sweet.  There 
was  nothing  more  wanted. ' ' 

"You — you  did  not  say  which 
daughter?" 

"Which  daughter?  Nay,  there  is 
no  need  for  that,"  the  captain 
laughed.  "No  need  to  tell  the 
Millers,  or  any  one  who  knows  this 
house,  which  daughter  gets  all  the 
good  things. ' ' 

Ernestine  hastily  left  the  room. 

"Eh?"  said  the  captain,  opening 
his  eyes.  "She  felt  that,  did  she? 
But  'tis  as  well  she  should  hear  it  for 
once,  poor  child.  And  maybe  she 
will  think  of  it  even  in  her  fine 
Jubilee  seat." 


THE    JUBILEE   SEAT  293 

"Father,  don't  be  hard;  dear 
father,  you  do  not  mean  it,  but  that 
was  a  cruel  thought.  Nesta  is  not  so 
selfish  as  you  think ;  she  is  only ' ' 

"Look  here,  Moll,  truth  is  truth. 
Was  there  ever  any  question  either 
with  Nesta  herself  or  with  any  single 
one  of  us  who  should  be  the  person 
to  accept  your  aunt's  invitation? 
You  are  the  elder.  The  telegram 
says  'One  of  your  daughters,'  yet  no 
one  for  a  moment  hesitated  between 
the  two.  That  speaks  for  itself,  my 
girl,"  as  there  ensued  a  pause  during 
which  Molly  hung  her  head  in 
silence.  "However,  I'll  say  no 
more,"  pursued  her  father,  "and  to 
be  sure,  I  dare  say  the  Millers 
meant  Nesta,  though  they  would  not 
pass  you  over.  And  now  that  she 
has  got  her  way,  she  will  be  more 
peaceable;  for  I  dare  say  it  has 
fretted  her  a  bit,  being  as  she  is  a 
pretty  creature — at  least,  so  folks 
tell  me" — and  he  rambled  on. 


294  THE   JUBILEE   SEAT 

Molly  was  half-way  across  the  fields, 
ere  he  had  said  his  say  for  the  time 
being. 

The  day  was  broiling,  and  the 
ground  heavy  from  recent  thundery 
rain  (we  all  remember  how  unsettled 
was  the  weather  during  that  tumul- 
tuous Jubilee  week),  so  that  it  took 
the  willing  little  messenger  longer 
than  she  had  expected  to  reach  the 
village  inn,  whence  a  pony-cart  could 
be  hired,  and  by  the  time  she  had 
hurried  back  across  the  miry  field- 
path,  Molly  expected  to  find  an 
expectant  head  prospecting  from 
Nesta's  bedroom  window;  but  no 
head  was  there.  "She  is  too  happy 
to  be  impatient,"  concluded  the 
sister,  "and  I  can  pack  while  she 
dresses.  There  is  plenty  of  time." 

Accordingly  she  pattered  upstairs, 
taking  off  her  hat  as  she  went,  and 
thankful  for  the  shade  within  the 
cool  farmhouse;  and  there  on  the 
landing  was  Nesta,  and 


THE    JUBILEE   SEAT  295 

"Hush!"  said  a  voice,  Nesta's 
voice,  but  suppressed  in  a  strange 
fashion,  "come  in  here,  quick;  I  have 
got  everything  ready,  and  you  are 
not  to  say  a  word." 

The  door  closed,  and  we  will  not 
open  it  to  spy. 

"Heyday,  what's  this?"  the  old 
captain  opened  his  mouth  and  shut 
it  again,  confounded  beyond  the 
power  of  speech.  He  was  standing 
in  the  porch,  the  pony-cart  was  at 
the  door,  and  the  luggage  was  in. 
But  the  traveller — who — who  was 
the  traveller? 

"Oh,  father,  dear,  she  would  make 
me  go ;  father,  I  could  not  help  it ; 
I  begged  and  prayed,  and  all  Nesta 
would  say  was " 

"Never  mind  what  Nesta  said." 
Nesta  was  busy  tucking  a  bunch  of 
roses  into  the  pretty  shirt  front 
which  was  her  own,  yet  now  peep- 
ing from  Molly's  little  coat. 


296  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

"There,  doesn't  she  look  nice?  Let 
mother  see  you,  Mollkins,  and  I  will 
run  for  a  glass  of  milk,  for  I  know 
you  can't  eat;"  and  she  vanished. 

"Shiver  my  timbers!"  exclaimed 
the  captain,  nailed  to  the  spot. 

Molly  it  was  who  was  trembling 
all  over,  as  deeply  ashamed  and 
remorseful  as  though  detected  in  a 
crime,  scarcely  even  yet  to  be  forced 
into  compliance.  "Father — mother 
— she  would  not  let  me  ask  you,  she 
would  not  even  let  me  tell  you. 
Everything  was  ready  when  I  went 
upstairs;  she  would  put  in  all  her 
own  best  things  that  she  thought  I 
would  want;  and  she  was  so  dear 
and  kind,"  an  irrepressible  sob,  the 
father  turned  his  head  and  whistled 
softly,  the  mother's  eyes  glistened — 
"what  could  I  do?"  proceeded  the 
criminal  (she  really  felt  herself  to  be 
one),  "she  hustled  me  into  my 
clothes,  and  did  my  hair  herself." 

"Now,  then,  time's  up!" — a  gay 


THE   JUBILEE   SEAT  297 

reminder  from  the  doorway. 
"Drink,  sister  mine,  and  be  off! 
Happiness  go  with  you!" — an  affec- 
tionate kiss.  No  one  was  supposed 
to  see  that  Nesta's  eyes  were  moist 
or  that  there  was  any  suspicious  red- 
ness in  the  lids. 

' '  Really,  father,  she  must  go ;  you 
know  how  full  the  train  will  be!" 
And  all  in  a  bustle,  poor  Molly,  still 
in  a  kind  of  dream,  was  swept  from 
the  door. 

Captain  Butterworth  took  one 
stride  up  to  his  remaining  daughter 
and  held  out  a  sunburnt  hand.  Not 
a  word  did  he  say,  but  its  grasp  and 
the  look  and  nod  by  which  it  was 
accompanied  were  felt  to  the  girl's 
inmost  soul. 

She  would  not  allow  herself  to  feel 
dull  when  the  excitement  was  over. 

"If  Moll  is  taking  my  place,  I  have 
got  to  take  hers."  And  in  and  out 
went  the  light  figure — Nesta  here, 
Nesta  there — no  one  had  ever  known 


298  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

Nesta  so  busy  and  so  cheerful — until 
at  last  there  came  a  pause  in  house- 
hold tasks,  and  from  the  lower  gar- 
den, among  the  sweet  peas  and 
mignonette,  there  rose  into  the  pure 
evening  air  the  sound  of  a  woman's 
singing. 

"I  scarcely  expected  to  find  any  of 
my  fair  cousins  at  home!" 

An  unmistakable  arrival  had  taken 
place.  Day  after  day  the  inmates  of 
Purfoy  Farm  had  hoped  to  see  their 
expected  relation  appear  from  the 
Antipodes,  until  at  last  it  became  so 
obvious  that  something  had  hap- 
pened to  delay  his  journey  that  the 
sisters  had  come  almost  to  hope — it 
might  be  selfishly,  but  they  could  not 
help  it — that  he  would  not  appear 
upon  the  scene  till  Jubilee  Day  was 
over. 

"At  least  we  maybe  spared  that!" 
Nesta  had  sighed,  with  doleful  resig- 
nation. 

But  now  here  was  Mat,  and  it  was 


THE    JUBILEE   SEAT  299 

only  Jubilee  Eve.  Her  heart,  in 
spite  of  a  sudden  thump,  sank  a 
little. 

It  was  something,  however,  that 
one  of  them  should  have  gone,  and, 
Molly  being  the  elder,  all  would 
seem  natural;  and — and  she  had  on 
a  clean  sprigged  muslin,  ready  for 
anything  that  might  turn  up  (it  had 
been  donned  on  purpose  to  show  to 
all  whom  it  might  concern  that  Nesta 
was  not  moping).  So,  putting  a 
brave  front  upon  it,  up  she  rose  from 
the  strawberry-bed,  over  which  she 
had  been  stooping,  and — 

"How  do  you  do,  Cousin  Mat?" 
said  she,  readily.  "We  have  been 
expecting  you  for  ever  so  long!" 

Expecting  him,  had  she?  "Faith," 
thought  Mat  Butterworth  to  him- 
self, "if  I  had  known  I  was  being 
'expected,'  and  by  such  a  goddess!" 
And  he  sat  down  in  the  rose-arbour 
by  Ernestine's  side. 

"She  has  told  you  all  about  it,  I 


300  THE    TUBILEE    SEAT 

suppose,"  said  the  old  captain,  stroll- 
ing down  to  call  them  in  presently. 
"My  word,  those  Jubilee  seats! 
Swindles,  that's  what  I  call  them !  I 
hope,  nephew,  I  do  hope  you  have 
not  been  let  in  for  anything  out- 
rageous ;  though,  of  course,  you 
know  your  own  business  best.  But 
five,  ten,  fifteen  guineas — anything 
you  like  to  name — is  the  order  of 
the  day.  And  for  what?  Eighteen 
inches  of  hard  board!  And  there 
you  have  to  sit  frying  in  dust  and 
heat!—" 

"Certainly,  it  is  a  vast  deal  pleas- 
anter  here,"  said  the  young  man, 
frankly.  And,  being  of  an  open 
nature  and  bred  to  straightforward 
dealing,  he  saw  no  harm  in  adding 
presently,  "I  am  fortunate,  uncle, 
to  find  one  of  my  cousins  at  home ; 
and  though,  no  doubt,  she  would 
rather  be  in  London " 

"She  let  Molly  go,"  said  Captain 
Butterworth,  quickly.  "What?  Am 


THE    JUBILEE   SEAT  301 

not  I  to  say  it?  Oh,  but  it's  only 
fair!  It  was  between  them,  d'ye 
see.  And,  poor  things,  they  were 
both  simply  off  their  heads  to  go; 
but — well,  well,  I  say  no  more.  What 
about  yourself,  Mat?  Are  you  off 
to-night,  or  will  the  morning  train 
do  for  you?" 

"Certainly  not  to-night.  Yes, 
yes,  the  morning;  any  morning 
train  will  do." 

The  captain  stared.  "  'Any' 
morning  train!  What  are  you 
thinking  of,  young  man?  If  you 

don't  start  before  break  of  day " 

' '  I  have  my  seat,  you  know,  sir. ' ' 

"You  have?     And  a  good  one,  I'll 

be  bound.     But  how  are  you  going 

to  get  to  it?     That's  the  point.     If 

it's  in  the  Borough " 

"It  is  not  in  the  Borough." 
"Humph,  the  Strand,  then?     Or 
Fleet   Street?     The    cram   will    be 
still  worse   in   Fleet   Street   or  the 
Strand." 


302  THE    JUBILEE   SEAT     - 

"It  is  in  a  corner  window  of  Pic- 
cadilly looking  down  St.  James's 
Street,"  said  Mat,  the  colour  suffus- 
ing his  brown  cheek,  for  he  had 
meant  to  keep  this  back  if  he  could. 
"So,  you  see,  any  time  will  do." 

"Fifteen  or  twenty  guineas,  eh?" 
The  captain  swallowed  something  in 
his  throat.  "And  you  seem  as 
indifferent  about  getting  there " 

"I  am  indifferent." 

Now,  how  was  it  that,  though 
Nesta  was  looking  the  other  way, 
she  not  only  heard  an  underlying 
meaning  in  the  accents,  but  knew 
that  a  certain  pair  of  dark  eyes  were 
turned  full  upon  her  face  and  rested 
there  while  her  cousin  spoke?  She 
twisted  off  a  moss-rose  and  smelt  it. 

"I  am  so  jolly  indifferent,"  con- 
tinued the  bronzed  Australian, 
deliberately,  "that  I  doubt  very 
much  if  I  shall  take  the  trouble  to 
attempt  it.  Why  should  I?  You'are 
not  going,  my  aunt  is  not  going" — a 


THE    JUBILEE    SEAT  303 

pause,  then — "and  Ernestine  is  not 
going,"  concluded  the  speaker, 
softly. 

After  the  evening  meal,  he  asked 
Ernestine  to  go  out  again  with  him. 
Why  not?  She  was  his  cousin;  and, 
besides,  if  a  man  is  not  to  have  a 
girl  to  himself,  how  can  he  tell 
whether  the  pretty  face  be  nothing 
but  a  pretty  face,  or  whether  the 
dawnings  of  a  deeper  feeling  than 
mere  admiration  within  his  bosom 
may  dare  expand  into  maturity? 

Round  and  round  the  little 
gravelled  garden  the  two  sauntered 
in  the  scented  dusk. 

"I  wonder  whether  I  did  not 
dream  of  something  like  this, ' '  said 
Mat,  at  last.  ' '  I  think  if  I  had  found 
you  all  agog  for  the  Jubilee  with  its 
fun  and  fume,  I  should  have  been 
almost  disappointed.  At  least,  it 
seems  so  to  me  now.  Of  course,  I 
hope  your  sister  will  enjoy  herself, 
and  I  am  sure  she  will;  but  I  am  so 


304  THE' JUBILEE   SEAT 

glad  she  went,  and" — again  the 
softer,  more  significant  note — "so 
very  glad  you  let  her  go. " 

Poor  Nesta  had  never  felt  so 
much  ashamed  and  yet  so  happy  in 
her  life.  It  was  of  no  avail  to 
stammer  out  a  confused  explanation 
which  only  served  to  show  her  to 
more  advantage  than  ever  in  her 
companion's  eyes.  She  had  to 
accept  his  homage  and  his  obvious 
conviction  of  her  unselfish  character, 
and  inwardly  resolve  that,  in  the 
future,  she  would  try  to  deserve  it. 

"And  you  are  not  going  up  at 
all?" 

It  was  perfectly  incredible  to  Cap- 
tain Butterworth  that  a  man  who 
had  paid  twenty  guineas  for  his  seat 
should  not  go  near  it  when,  more- 
over, there  was  not  even  a  chance  of 
getting  his  money  back;  but  it 
appeared  that  this  was  his  strange 
nephew's  intention.  Mat  had  made 
up  his  mind  in  the  night.  The  idea 


THE   JUBILEE    SEAT  305 

of  Ernestine  wandering  lonely 
among  her  sweet  peas,  of  leaving 
her  behind  in  however  sweet  a  spot 
while  he  ruffled  it  among  grandees 
in  his  costly  place  at  the  great 
Jubilee  show,  was  not  to  be  borne. 

"If  I  could  have  taken  her  with 
me!"  he  thought;  but  that  could 
not,  of  course,  be  done. 

"Then,  here  goes!"  cried  Mat 
Butterworth,  and  tore  up  his  ticket 
into  small  pieces. 

Space  forbids  us  to  tell  how  that 
long  summer  day  passed  for  him  and 
for  Ernestine.  Wherever  she  went, 
there  went  he.  Whatever  duties 
and  occupations  she  engaged  in,  he 
shared.  She  showed  him  her 
favourite  walk;  and  they  sat  to- 
gether in  a  shady  nook  by  a  bub- 
bling stream  at  the  very  hour  when, 
had  things  fallen  out  otherwise,  each 
would  have  been  differently  en- 
sconced, "And  not  together,"  as 
Mat  significantly  observed. 


306  THE    JUBILEE    SEAT 

He  pulled  out  his  watch  and  told 
her  exactly  what  would  be  passing  as 
the  moments  flew  by ;  he  hoped  Molly 
would  be  able  to  remember  and  tell 
him  if  his  conjectures  were  correct. 
He  did  not  seem  at  all  to  mind  when 
a  new  telegram  arrived — this  time 
from  Molly  herself — to  the  effect 
that,  as  the  party  durst  not  venture 
forth  to  see  the  illuminations  the 
same  night,  the  crowd  being  too 
great,  her  aunt  insisted  on  keeping 
her  till  Thursday.  As  for  Nesta? 
Nesta  was  almost  frightened  to  feel 
as  she  did.  That  telegram  was  like 
a  reprieve. 

So  the  next  day  it  was  the  same 
thing  over  again;  and  by  evening 
Nesta  had  learned  all  about  her 
cousin's  home-life  in  that  far  land, 
perceived  that,  in  spite  of  his  wealth 
and  the  luxury  in  which  he  lived,  he 
was  a  solitary  man  with  starved 
affections,  and  a  large  heart  longing 
to  be  filled;  and  scarce  daring  to 


THE    JUBILEE    SEAT  307 

believe  it  was  so,  yet  had  a  convic- 
tion which  thrilled  every  vein, 
namely,  that  he  had  already  decided 
who  could  fill  it. 

"Seems  tome  you  didn't  lose  so 
much  through  giving  up  your 
Jubilee  seat  after  all,"  said  the  old 
captain,  when  they  told  him. 


THOSE   SORT   OP   PEOPLE 


Those  Sort  of  People 


"I  really  cannot  see  why  you 
should  be  so  set  upon  going  there," 
said  Mrs.  Boscastle,  with  a  con- 
temptuous intonation  on  the  last 
word,  which  directly  indicated  its 
status.  "You  have  been  determined 
about  it  from  the  very  first.  I 
never  knew  you  so  obstinate  about 
anything."  She  paused,  but  as 
there  was  no  response,  took  up  the 
theme  with  renewed  animation.  "It 
is  not  as  if  you  were  always  so  par- 
ticular about  engagements.  I  am 
sure  I  wish  you  were.  When  you 
are  asked  to  other  houses  —  when 
'Miss  Boscastle'  is  distinctly  men- 
tioned beneath  your  father's  and  my 
name  —  as  often  as  not  you  insist  on 
Mary's  going." 

3" 


312      THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

"Only  in  fair  turn,  mamma. 
'Miss  Boscastle'  on  an  ordinary  card 
means  either  of  us.  In  this  case  it 
does  not — as  you  know. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  know;  I  know  very  well. 
Those  sort  of  people  must  always 
have  the  best.  They  want  to  show 
you  off,  of  course. ' ' 

An  impatient  movement,  but  the 
speaker  either  did  not  or  would  not 
perceive  it.  "A  tea  party  in  West 
Kensington!"  Again  the  disdainful 
inflection,  this  time,  if  possible,  more 
accentuated  than  before.  "In  West 
Kensington!  In  Shepherd's  Bush,  I 
suppose,  if  the  truth  were  told.  In 
a  little  semi-detached  villa  facing  the 
green,  I  dare  say.  It  is  too  absurd 
to  give  up  Ranelagh  on  a  lovely 
June  afternoon  for  such  a  wretched, 
such  an  absolutely  squalid  entertain- 
ment." 

"You  would  have  had  me  say  this?" 

"Edith,  don't  be  ridiculous.  And 
there  is  no  need  to  get  angry  over 


THOSE   SORT    OF    PEOPLE     313 

it.  If  you  had  done  as  I  told  you  to 
do  at  the  first,  accepted  condition- 
ally— agreed  to  go  if  nothing  pre- 
vented you " 

"If  nothing  better  turned  up." 
"Precisely.  You  would  have 
meant  that,  and  they  would  have 
understood  it,  and  it  would  have 
been  as  much  as  they  could  have 
expected.  You  know  I  am  quite 
glad — ahem!  I  entirely  approve  of 
your  affection  for  your  old  govern- 
ess  ,"  Edith  Boscastle  raised 

her  eyes,  and  her  step-mother  pro- 
ceeded somewhat  hurriedly,  "It  is 
all  right  and  proper;  Miss  Peters 
was  an  excellent  instructress,  who 
deserved  all  the  esteem  you  could 
give  her;  but,  having  ceased  to  have 
any  connection  with  this  house  pro- 
fessionally, I  must  say  I  think  it 
rather  a  pity — that  is  to  say,  we  are 
always  glad  to  see  her  here,  without 
there  being  any  occasion  for  your 
going  among  her  people." 


314     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

"This  is  the  first  time  she  has  ever 
asked  it ;  and  she  inquired  privately 
of  you,  if  either  papa  or  you  would 
have  any  objection,  before  she  men- 
tioned the  subject  to  me." 

"She  did,  very  properly.  And  if 
only  it  had  not  been  for  a  Saturday, 
and  we  had  not  had  Ranelagh 
tickets " 

"That  need  not  matter,  surely. 
You  will  take  Mary;  and  Mary 
would  greatly  like  to  go. ' ' 

Mrs.  Boscastle  fidgeted.  What 
she  longed  to  say,  and  did  not  dare 
to  say,  was,  that  while  her  plainer 
step-daughter  would  make  no  sensa- 
tion, attract  no  admiring  glances 
from  the  gay  crowds  in  the  haunt  of 
fashion,  she  would  have  been  per- 
fectly good  enough  for  the  suburban 
studio,  on  which  it  was  a  shame  to 
waste  her  sister.  Debarred  from 
giving  vent  to  the  sentiment,  she 
could  only  feebly  return  to  her 
first  charge.  "I  could  not  have 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     315 

believed  you  would  be  so  tiresome, 
Edith." 

Now  Edith  Boscastle  was  a  wise 
girl;  she  did  not  attempt  to  argue 
the  point.  To  have  done  so  would 
have  been  to  inflame  opposition,  and 
opposition  occasionally  led  to  a 
battle-royal  in  the  doctor's  house, 
subsequent  to  which  peace  would 
only  be  restored  by  giving  up  the 
point  at  issue.  This  she  did  not 
mean  to  do. 

In  her  heart  of  hearts  she  not  only 
felt  the  full  force  of  her  step-mother's 
argument,  but  it  was  backed  up  by 
a  secret  consciousness  which  had 
already  caused  more  than  one  sigh 
to  escape  since  the  arrival  of  the 
coveted  tickets.  Some  one  had  sent 
them — some  one  whom  Edith  liked 
very  much  indeed. 

Under  other  circumstances  she 
would  have  flown  to  her  chamber  to 
don  her  prettiest  dress  and  hat,  and 
joyful  anticipation  would  have 


316     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

painted  a  tint  upon  her  cheek,  and 
sparkle  in  her  eye;  but  disappoint 
her  poor,  dear,  humble  little  friend 
who  had  so  long  before  arranged  the 
day  and  hour,  talked  of  it,  planned 
for  it,  and  whose  preparations  were 
doubtless  now  complete?  She  could 
not  do  this. 

She  had  herself  named  a  Saturday 
as  being  usually  a  free  day ;  and  the 
present  Saturday  had  been  abso- 
lutely barren  of  engagements  three 
weeks  before,  at  which  time  the 
quondam  governess  made  her 
modest  appeal.  An  artist  brother 
(married,  and  entirely  unobjection- 
able, as  Mrs.  Boscastle  took  care  to 
note)  was  setting  up  his  small  studio 
on  the  outskirts  of  London,  and 
having  brought  with  him  from 
abroad  a  collection  of  pictures  and 
sketches,  fancied  it  would  be  to  him 
something  of  the  coveted  "start"  so 
important  in  every  career,  if  these 
could  be  viewed  by  friends  likely 


THOSE   SORT    OF    PEOPLE     317 

either  to  become  themselves  patrons, 
or  to  interest  others  more  artistically 
disposed. 

It  was  an  acknowledged  fact  that 
no  one  could  interest  the  head  of  the 
house  in  Harley  Street  as  could  the 
eldest  daughter. 

"We  thought  perhaps  if  you  would 
come,  Edith?"  said  Jane  Peters, 
wistfully ;  and  neither  Edith  nor  any 
one  else  wondered  why  the  speaker 
said  you. 

So  that,  on  the  whole,  it  was 
manifestly  unfair  in  Mrs.  Boscastle 
to  profess  a  species  of  ignorance 
which  could  only  be  sheltered  be- 
neath insinuations  totally  wide  of  the 
mark,  and  yet  unanswerable ;  because 
the  girl  who  was  both  prettier  and 
wittier  than  her  sister  could  no  more 
have  alleged,  "I  am  wanted  because 
my  father  thinks  more  of  one  word 
from  me  than  of  a  thousand  from 
Mary,"  than  she  could  have  pro- 
tested, "You,  on  your  part,  want  me 


318     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

because  I  reflect  credit    on  you  by 
my  appearance,  and  Mary  does  not. 

Nothing  could  be  said  openly,  and 
she  was  obliged  to  trust  to  her  step- 
mother's good  taste  and  good  feeling 
prevailing  in  the  long  run.  Taste 
perhaps  would  hardly  have  effected 
much  in  Mrs.  Boscastle's  case,  but 
she  had,  with  all  her  defects— and 
theyVere  patent  to  the  dullest  intel- 
ligence— heart  enough  to  make  her 
just  stop  short  of  giving  pain  to 
the  simple  girl  who  was  so  ready 
to  acknowledge  herself  her  sister's 
inferior,  and  so  affectionately  proud 
of  the  fact. 

"Mary  does  not  mind,"  Mrs. 
Boscastle  would  exclaim,  with  easy 
indifference.  "Mary  is  a  good  girl, 
and  of  course  she  can't  help  seeing. " 
1  On  ordinary  occasions  she  would 
herself  be  touched  by  Mary's  ready 
acquiescence  in  any  putting  forward 
of  the  show  member  of  the  family. 
(We  may  be  sure  from  whom  this 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     319 

idea  emanated.)  The  lady  would  be 
touched  and  pleased,  we  say,  and  in 
high  good  humour  would  pat  poor 
Mary's  cheek  for  a  "dear,  unselfish 
creature,"  assuring  her  moreover 
that  looks  were  nothing,  and  that 
many  of  the  best  marriages  were 
made  by  the  plainest  girls.  If  the 
cheek  flushed  a  little  beneath  such 
consolation,  Mary's  step-mother 
never  saw  it. 

She  was  kind  to  both  the  girls  in 
her  way.  Luckily  for  them,  and 
perhaps  for  herself,  she  had  no  chil- 
dren of  her  own,  and  they  were  thus 
able  to  retain  through  subsequent 
years  the  place  they  had  been 
accorded  in  her  estimation,  when  in 
the  first  gush  of  her  marriage  pros- 
perity she  had  swallowed  with  joy 
anything  and  anybody  connected 
with  the  elderly  widower  whose  pro- 
posals secured  her  future  comfort 
and  independence.  Previously  she 
had  earned  her  own  living,  and  a 


320     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

hard  and  precarious  livelihood  it 
had  been. 

Accordingly,  the  two  little  ones 
who  constituted  Dr.  Boscastle's  sole 
family  were  hardly  felt  to  be  even  in 
the  way — she  would  have  accepted 
him  if  there  had  been  a  dozen  of 
them — and  as  the  elder  of  the  two 
bloomed  and  budded  into  lovely 
maidenhood,  and  as  both  were  docile 
under  her  rule — had  no  spite  against 
her — no  desire  to  throw  off  her 
yoke — did  not  even  seek  to  jostle  her 
aside  as  she  saw  others  with  the  gen- 
uine claim  of  motherhood  jostled — 
she  grew  to  entertain  a  warmer  feel- 
ing towards  them  both  than  pupils 
who  had  known  her  in  her  capacity 
of  governess  could  have  believed 
possible. 

In  Edith  her  pride  might  be  cen- 
tred; but  where  vanity  and  social 
ambition  did  not  bar  the  way,  there 
was  as  much,  if  not  positively  more, 
affection  for  Mary. 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     32! 

Pride  and  social  ambition — those 
two  ever-green  demons — did,  how- 
ever, not  infrequently  rumple  up  the 
waves  when  otherwise  all  might 
have  been  smooth  sailing  between 
the  three  with  whom  our  little  story 
is  most  concerned.  Mrs.  Boscastle 
could  not  look  at  Edith  without 
noting  the  elegance  of  her  shape, 
the  pose  of  her  head,  and  the  deli- 
cate curves  of  her  chin  and  brow. 
She  was  forever  making  comparisons 
between  her  and  others  of  her  age 
and  sex.  She  watched  them  go  out 
and  in,  took  stock  of  their  •  clothes, 
their  movements,  their  manners  and 
affectations.  She  did  not  like  it  if  a 
young  visitor  were  taller  or  smarter. 

In  her  own  mind  the  conviction 
was  assured  that  Edith  at  her  best, 
in  lively  spirits  and  becoming 
raiment,  could  out-distance  any  of 
her  peers;  but  she  knew  that  it  be- 
hoved Edith  to  be  at  her  best.  It 
was  therefore  imperative  that  she 


322      THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

should  go  into  public  of  her  own 
accord,  gladly  and  willingly — not  to 
be  dragged  thither  because  Mrs. 
Boscastle  would  not  go  without  her. 

It  was  also  necessary  to  let  her 
alone  when  there;  to  permit  her  to 
talk  to  whom  she  chose,  walk  or  sit, 
as  she  preferred.  Edith's  step- 
mother made  quite  a  study  of  her 
charge  during  the  first  year  after  she 
"came  out"  and  at  the  end  of  that 
year  she  fully  expected  never  to 
have  another  of  the  kind. 

"I  shall  have  no  such  credit  in 
poor  Mary,"  she  sighed,  in  dole- 
ful prediction, — but  she  was  not  as 
well  content  as  she  might  have  been 
to  find  that  although  "poor  Mary" 
was  ready  to  step  on  the  stage,  the 
stage  was  not  cleared  for  her,  as 
prophets  united  in  foretelling  it 
would  be.  The  beautiful  Edith  was 
still  on  hand. 

So  that  now,  in  the  middle  of 
Edith's  second  London  season,  little 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     323 

scenes  such  as  we  have  hearkened  to 
above  were  not  altogether  infrequent 
in  the  doctor's  house,  and  it  only 
remains  to  say  one  thing  more. 
Although  Edith  Boscastle  had  her 
own  reason  for  finding  the  path  of 
fidelity  and  kindness  a  hard  one  to 
tread  on  in  the  day  in  question,  she 
would  sooner  have  died  than  con- 
fided this  to  her  step-mother.  There 
was  plenty  of  goodwill  but  no  real 
sympathy  between  natures  so  oppo- 
site. 

"Do  you  think  she  will  come?" 
said  Mr.  Harold  Peters,  in  his  thin, 
nervous  voice.  He  had  been  ham- 
mering and  hanging,  and  wearing 
himself  out  ever  since  morning  in 
the  little,  hot  double-room  now 
turned  into  a  picture-gallery. 
"Young  ladies  are  so  forgetful." 

"Edith  will  not  forget.  She  is  as 
true  as  steel,"  asserted  Edith's 
sponsor,  confidently ;  ' '  when  she  was 


324     THOSE   SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

in  the  schoolroom,  if  she  promised 
to  do  a  thing  she  would  do  it,  though 
a  thousand  lions  stood  in  the  path." 
"Lions?     Oh,  well,  we  hardly  run 
to  'lions'  in  West  Kensington;  I  wish 
we    did."      The    artist    laughed    a 
feeble,    high-pitched,    anxious    little 
pretence   of  a   laugh.      "Even  one 
lion   would  be  a  'draw'   worth  any 
money  to  us  at  the  present  moment. 
But    this     ex-pupil     of    yours — you 
speak  as  if  she  were  rather    a  de- 
termined,   dare-devil   sort   of    char- 
acter,   eh?      Suppose    she    takes    a 
wrong  turn?    Suppose    she    is  in  a 
carping,  fault-finding  humour?   Sup- 
pose  " 

"Nay,  dear  brother,  with  idle  sup- 
positions we  need  not  cumber  our- 
selves. Real  facts  are  hard  enough 
to  deal  with. "  The  gentle  creature 
heaved  a  patient  sigh.  "We  have 
been  successful  so  far,"  she  con- 
tinued, more  briskly.  "Everybody 
has  been  kind  in  promising  to  come 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     325 

to-day;  the  weather  is  cool  and 
fresh  outside,  though  our  little  house 
is  rather  warm;  as  for  the  tea  and 
strawberries' ' — looking  complacently 
at  a  small  set-out,  which  had  been 
arranged  with  care,  and  sent  forth 
a  delicious  odour,  tempting  to  the 
most  jaded  palate.  "Grace  has 
surpassed  herself,"  continued  the 
speaker,  smiling  round  at  another 
slight,  colourless  figure  which  glided 
forward  from  back  regions  at  the 
moment. 

It  was  characteristic  of  all  three 
that  they  spoke  in  muffled  tones,  and 
moved  as  afraid  of  free,  unre- 
strained action.  With  many  tremors 
they  had  approached  this  day  in 
their  lives  which  meant  to  them  a 
crisis. 

And  one  of  the  three,  she  who 
had  boldly  conceived  the  project  and 
thrown  her  whole  soul  into  it,  had 
to  keep  to  herself  the  trump  card 
with  which  her  sleeve  was  trembling! 


326     THOSE   SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

She  had  it  there;  now  and  then 
it  almost  peeped  out;  had  there 
been  a  Harold  without  his  Grace,  or 
a  Grace  without  her  Harold,  it  must 
have  been  produced  in  moments  of 
dire  secrecy, — but  stickler  as  she  was 
for  absolute  confidence  between  hus- 
band and  wife,  how  could  she  expect 
aught  than  that  a  discovery  upon 
which  she  had  alit  by  sheerest  acci- 
dent, but  which  might  now  be 
turned  to  rare  account,  would  not 
have  been  the  subject  of  conversa- 
tion and  conjecture  between  the 
fond  pair? 

This  was  not  to  be  borne.  Her 
dear  Edith's  name  was  not  to  be 
bandied  about  by  strangers,  even 
with  no  ill  intent;  and  no  one 
guessed  that  the  staunch  espouser 
of  the  brother's  cause  and  prophet- 
ess of  his  fame,  had  a  little  wire  to 
pull  on  her  own  account,  which'  no 
other  fingers  must  presume  to  touch. 

"Lady  Victoria  Swallowfield ! " 


THOSE   SORT    OF    PEOPLE     327 

Good  gracious!  Her  ladyship  to 
be  the  first  to  arrive,  and  no  one  to 
hear  her  announced ! 

This,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  the 
first  thought  which  sent  a  thrill  of 
disappointment  through  the  breast  of 
the  artist's  poor  little  wife. 

Possibly  it  was  a  vulgar  thought, 
but  Grace  was  but  a  homely  trades- 
man's daughter,  and  she  had  never 
spoken  to  a  "Lady"  Anybody  in  her 
life.  And  she  had  counted,  poor 
soul,  on  the  sensation  in  her  little 
room  when  the  door  should  open  to 
admit  such  a  guest,  and  on  the  faces 
of  the  others  when  Jane  should  go 
forward  in  her  quiet,  composed  man- 
ner to  receive  her  own  especial  friend. 

Jane  would  show  nothing.  She 
might  feel  the  honour,  perhaps  she 
might  even  murmur  her  sense  of  it 
into  Lady  Victoria's  ear, — but  out- 
wardly, she  would  be  as  calm  as  if 
such  an  event  were  of  everyday 
occurrence. 


328     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

Harold  and  his  wife  had  been 
assured  when  in  doubts  as  to  the 
propriety  of  sending  an  invitation  to 
the  stately  dame  of  quality,  that 
Jane  would  see  them  through, — and 
with  that  rod  on  which  to  lean, 
they  had  been  able  to  bear  the 
anticipation. 

But  here  was  the  terrible  moment, 
with  all  its  pangs  and  none  of  its 
sweets !  She  felt  the  ill-luck  to  the 
bottom  of  her  soul. 

She  did  her  best,  however;  and 
those  who  knew  Lady  Victoria 
would  have  told  her  that  this  august 
personage  was  unusually  gracious. 
Ordinarily  there  was  an  atmosphere 
surrounding  her  ladyship  in  which 
it  was  not  easy  to  breathe.  She  was 
shy,  she  was  proud,  she  had  a  repel- 
lent manner,  and  a  poker  back. 
Even  when  most  pleased  to  meet  a 
neighbour  or  acquaintance,  the 
slowly  extended  fingers  and  the 
frigid  greeting  made  cordiality  diffi- 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     329 

cult  on  the  part  of  the  recipient. 
She  would  say,  "I  am  so  glad  to  see 
you,"  in  tones  that  would  more 
fittingly  have  expressed,  "I  wish 
3Tou  were  at  the  other  end  of  the 
earth. ' ' 

But  beneath  the  crust  there  were 
those  who  knew  that  a  true  heart 
beat,  and  that  once  admitted  to 
Lady  Victoria's  esteem,  the  place 
was  held  in  perpetuity.  Jane 
Peters,  when  begging  the  favour  of 
her  kind  friend's  presence  at  the 
studio,  had  faithfully  delineated  its 
locality,  and  prepared  her  for  its 
insignificance, — and  Jane  knew  that 
she  could  not  better  have  secured 
her  object  than  by  such  a  course. 
Benevolence  now  softened  a  coun- 
tenance usually  severe. 

The  one  large  chair  in  the  room 
had  been  placed  in  its  coolest  part, 
and  through  the  little  window  at  the 
back  a  faint  breeze  fanned  a  meagre 
tree-top.  "I  am  so  thankful  to  get 


33°     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

into  this  pleasant  shade, ' '  said  Lady 
Victoria,  cheerfully. 

"How  splendid  she  looks!" 
thought  Grace  Peters,  from  afar. 
"All  that  black  silk  and  lace— so 
effective !  And  I  am  glad  her  lady- 
ship is  stout;  somehow  it  makes  so 
much  more  of  her  than  if  she  were  a 
thin  woman.  No  one  can  help  see- 
ing her— even  if  she  did  come 
rather  soon  for  her  name  to  be 
heard." 

Jane,  too,  took  occasion  to  whisper 
that  Lady  Victoria  was  not  going  to 
hurry  away.  Lady  Victoria  would 
not  have  her  tea  just  yet;  she  would 
like  to  sit  and  chat  a  while;  and 
then  go  round  the  pictures  and  see 
the  portfolio,  and  be  ready  for  tea 
when  others  came  in. 

"So  they  will  all  see  the  carriage 
at  the  door,"  thought  Grace. 

She  could  not  resist  a  peep  out- 
side, as  she  stood  nervously  by  her 
teapots,  there  being  nothing  for  her 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     331 

to  do  the  while  Jane  composedly  con- 
versed with  the  guest,  and  Harold 
hovered  near,  waiting  the  right 
moment  for  Art  to  be  appealed  to. 

The  big  barouche,  with  its  glitter- 
ing harness  and  champing  horses, 
gave  an  air  to  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood. It  seemed  a  shame  that  it 
should  have  to  move  aside  pres- 
ently, even  for  the  very  good  little 
brougham  with  its  glossy  chestnut, 
which  was  the  next  arrival. 
'  And  more  vehicles  followed. 
People  whom  Grace  had  certainly 
expected  to  appear  either  on  foot, 
or  at  best  in  cabs  and  hansoms, 
turned  up  in  well-appointed  equip- 
ages, with  smart  liveried  servants  on 
their  box-seats — so  that  by  the  time 
the  apartment  within  was  full  (and 
it  held  more  than  could  have  been 
supposed),  there  was  quite  a  festive 
little  crowd  in  front,  and  the  suc- 
cess of  Mr.  Peters'  studio  tea  was 
assured. 


332     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

Last  of  all  to  arrive  was  Miss 
Edith  Boscastle.  In  she  came, 
blushing  like  a  rose,  and  looking 
very  like  a  rose  altogether  in  her 
freshest  and  fairest  dress,  all  eager- 
ness to  explain  a  delay  which  must 
not  be  allowed  to  appear  of  set  pur- 
pose, especially  since  there  could 
be  no  mistaking  the  pause  which 
made  her  silver  tones  audible  on 
every  side. 

"How  horrible!  It  looks  as  if  I 
meant  to  make  a  grand  entrte!" 
cried  she  to  herself. 

And  she  had  tried  to  be  there 
an  hour  before,  and  it  was  pure 
accident  which  had  hindered  her, 
and  caused  the  sensation  of  the 
hour! 

The  sensation  penetrated  to  the 
innermost  recesses  of  the  back  room 
where  Lady  Victoria  Swallowfield 
still  clung  to  her  big  chair,  though 
she  was  now  contentedly  sipping  tea 
and  munching  cake.  She  had 


THOSE   SORT    OF    PEOPLE     333 

accomplished  the  purpose  for  which 
she  had  come ;  admired  and  praised 
and  given  a  handsome  order; 
furthermore,  she  had  promised  to 
speak  to  her  brother,  the  duke,  who 
was  on  the  point  of  having  his  larg- 
est country  seat  newly  decorated, 
and  had  spoken  about  frescoes  on  the 
walls — (Harold's  breath  went  and 
came  as  he  listened) — Lady  Victoria 
thought,  yes,  she  certainly  thought 
the  duke  would  give  attention  to  her 
recommendation,  however  he  might 
eventually  decide.  She  could,  of 
course,  promise  nothing, — but  there 
was  enough  without  the  promise 
to  make  the  poor  artist's  eyes 
kindle. 

Business  done,  the  old  lady  en- 
joyed her  tea,  and  at  the  moment  of 
Edith  Boscas tie's  appearance  on  the 
scene  was  hearkening  favourably  to 
a  suggestion  of  strawberries;  but 
somehow — and  she  remembered  this 
afterwards  with  satisfaction,  for  her 


334     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

doctor  might  have  looked  grave — she 
never  got  the  strawberries. 

"Who  is  that?"  she  exclaimed, 
suddenly.  "What  name  did  you 
say,  my  dear?" 

Jane  Peters,  who  was  never  very 
far  from  her  ladyship's  chair,  bent 
over  the  speaker  in  a  moment. 
Edith  had  been  in  the  room  for 
about  ten  minutes. 

"A  former  pupil  of  yours?  I  did 
not  know  that.  I  never  heard  you 
mention  the  Boscastles. " 

Jane  was  silent.  It  had  not  been 
her  business  to  mention  the 
Boscastles. 

"She  is  certainly  a  very  pretty 
girl,"  murmured  Lady  Victoria, 
scanning  through  her  eyeglass  the 
light  figure  in  its  rosebud  dra- 
peries. 

"She  is  as  good  as  she  is  pretty," 
said  Miss  Peters,  in  a  low,  distinct, 
emphatic  voice.  She  was  pulling 
her  wire  now. 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     335 

The  old  lady  dropped  her  eyeglass 
with  a  jerk,  and  turned  round  as 
though  surprised.  "Good,  did  you 
say?  Good,  Jane?  And  you  speak 
from  knowledge,  of  course.  Your 
position  would  enable  you  to  judge. 
But  I  thought,  I  certainly  both 
thought  and  heard  that  these  Bos- 
castles "  she  moved  uneasily  in 

her  chair. 

"Edith  ought  not  to  be  con- 
founded with  her  step-mother,  Lady 
Victoria.  She  ought  not  to  make 
one  when  you  talk  of  'these  Bos- 
castles.  '  Not  that  it  is  for  me  to  say 
a  word  against  Mrs.  Boscastle,  who 
was  always  kind  to  me,  but " 

"I  understand;  I  understand.  A 
forward,  pushing  woman.  And  wild 
to  be  taken  up  by  society — to  fly 
in  at  every  open  door.  They  tell 
me  she  is  determined  to  marry  off 
those  girls,  and  hawks  them  about 
in  the  most  barefaced  manner.  I 
am  old-fashioned  and  strict  in  my 


336     THOSE  SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

notions,  I  suppose ;  but  I  must  con- 
fess that  ever  since  my  son  took  to 
visiting  at  the  Boscastles'  I  have 
worried  over  his  being  so  intimate 
with  people  of  whom  I  disliked 
everything  I  ever  heard." 

The  governess  was  wisely  silent. 

"But  she  certainly  has  a  sweet 
face!"  said  Lady  Victoria,  slowly 
raising  the  eyeglass  a  second  time. 

After  a  moment  she  beckoned 
down  Jane's  ear  again.  "How 
comes  it  that  she  is  here  to-day?  I 
know  my  son  expected  to  meet  her 
at  Ranelagh.  He  sent  them  tickets; 
I  was  annoyed  with  him  for  doing 
so.  And  Jane — oh,  I  wish  I  could 
speak  to  you  alone — it  is  so  difficult, 
young  men  are  so  tiresome  to  man- 
age, and  he  says  he  is  not  a  young 
man  now.  Jane,  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  what  you  think. "  (No  won- 
der strawberries  and  cream  vanished 
from  her  ladyship's  thoughts.)  "I 
had  no  idea  you  could  help  me, ' '  she 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     337 

murmured  at  last,  almost  reproach- 
fully. 

"Dear  Lady  Victoria,  my  help 
would  be  to  bring  up  Edith,  and  let 
you  judge  her  for  yourself. " 

"It  could  do  no  harm,  could  it? 
And  Victor  would  be  pleased.  And 
she  does  look — she  really  has  a 
charming  face"  (eyeglass  again  in 
requisition).  "Yes,  I  think  I  should 
like  to  speak  to  her ;  but  one  word, 
Jane,  before  you  go.  Did  she  know 
I  was  coming?  Did  you  talk  it  over 
with  her?  Was  there  any  scheme? — 
Oh,  dear,  what  am  I  saying?  For- 
give me,  my  dear,  I  did  not  mean  to 
be  rude  and  stupid;  and  of  course 
you — I  could  trust  you  anywhere. 
All  I  want  is  to  know  whether 
she " 

"Was  absolutely  ignorant  of  my 
having  even  invited  you,  Lady  Vic- 
toria. It  is  not  my  place  to  tattle  of 
the  friendship  with  which  you  honour 
me;  and  I  do  not  see  Edith  often 


338     THOSE   SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

enough  to  make  the  mention  of  your 
name  spontaneous.  This  dear,  kind 
girl  gave  up  her  own  pleasure  and 
toiled  out  all  this  way  to-day,  purely 
from  the  same  motive  that  you  did 
yourself. ' ' 

Lady  Victoria  pressed  the  hand 
which  lay  on  the  arm  of  her  chair. 
Her  ear,  albeit  by  no  means  a  quick 
one,  caught  a  falter  of  emotion  in 
the  words  which  appealed  at  once  to 
her  best  impulses. 

"I  gave  up  nothing,  Jane.  I  had 
no  gay  parties  waiting  for  me;  no 
gallant  admirer  —  ahem! — Jane, 
could  you  have  done  it?  He  may 
take  it  amiss,  you  know.  Men  are 
so  tiresome  and  foolish;  and  a  man 
in  love — oh,  you  are  discretion  itself 
— you  will  never  repeat.  I  can  tell 
you  that  Victor  is  in  love,  desper- 
ately in  love,  with  this  girl,  and  will 
not  hear  a  word  against  her.  And  I 
have  been  so  put  out  and  worried; 
for  the  idea  certainly  is  that — I 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     339 

hardly  like  to  suggest  it  of  that 
innocent-looking  creature — but  they 
do  tell  me  she  is  throwing  herself, 
or  being  thrown,  at  my  son's  head." 

"  'Being  thrown,'  Lady  Victoria, 
possibly!  'Throwing herself?'  Never. 
One  has  but  to  know  Edith  Bos- 
castle — " 

"Then  let  me  know  her,"  quoth 
Lady  Victoria,  cutting  the  matter 
short. 

"And  now  to  pull  wire  No.  2," 
nodded  Jane  Peters  to  herself,  as  she 
threaded  her  way  through  the  talk- 
ing, tea-drinking  assemblage.  (She 
noted  how  brisk  the  chatter  was, 
and  how  well  everything  was  going, 
as  she  did  so.)  "Now,  poor  Edith, 
for  your  start  and  shock!" 

But  there  was  neither  start  nor 
shock. 

Edith  had  long  before  descried  the 
black  figure  in  the  large  armchair, 
and  recognised  it. 

Of  course  she  did;  of  course  she 


340     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

quailed  before  such  an  apparition! 
How  strange,  how  extraordinary,  to 
meet  it  here !  To  run  across  Victor 
Swallowfield's  proud,  impenetrable 
mother,  who  was  supposed  never  to 
go  anywhere — never,  at  least,  to  any 
ordinary  house,  and  whom  Mrs. 
Boscastle  had  in  vain  hoped  to  meet 
at  any  public  or  private  entertain- 
ment— to  find  her  in  this  dingy  little 
dwelling,  in  this  back-of-beyond 
neighbourhood! 

And  how  peaceful  the  great  lady 
looked,  sitting  well  back  in  her 
comfortable  chair,  placidly  bearing 
her  prominent  part  in  the  festivity. 
— [N.  B. — This  was  before  she  saw 
Edith.  Edith,  as  we  know,  had 
been  present  for  some  small  space  of 
time  ere  the  vision  of  her,  decked  in 
all  the  charms  of  youth  and  beauty, 
so  moved  Lady  Victoria  that  she 
inquired  of  Jane  Peters,  "Who  is 
she?"] — Subsequently  no  one  could 
have  said  that  either  the  old  face  or 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE     341 

figure  looked  "placid."  The  face 
worked  strangely,  the  figure  moved 
incessantly. 

The  truth  was  that  Fate,  whimsical 
Fate,  had  pierced  between  joints  of 
armour  already  rattling.  Lady 
Victoria  had  had  a  bad  night,  fol- 
lowed by  an  unhappy  morning. 
Her  only  son,  the  darling  of  her 
heart,  had  defied  her, — and  if  that 
defiance  were  to  last  and  she  could 
not  find  some  means  by  which  to 
break  it  down,  she  might  as  well 
give  up  the  ghost  at  once.  Whom 
had  she  on  earth  but  Victor? 

And  now,  Victor  had  told  her 
plainly  what  he,  shy  and  reticent  as 
herself,  had  only  permitted  to  be 
guessed  before,  that  her  worst  fears 
respecting  a  family  she  disliked  and 
disapproved  were  to  be  realised 
forthwith. 

Victor  was  a  proud  man;  he  did 
not  deign  to  say,  "You  misjudge 
Edith  Boscastle;  you  are  unfair 


342     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

and  prejudiced.  You  might  trust 
me  to  choose  my  own  wife."  In- 
stead of  this,  he  rather  chuckled 
inwardly,  monster  that  he  was,  at 
the  thought  of  the  triumph  which 
lay  before  him,  supposing  all  went 
well.  His  poor  mother  would  strike 
her  colours  on  the  instant.  A  single 
interview  would  do  it.  But  he 
meanly  withheld  that  interview. 

The  two  had  been  really  angry 
with  each  other  that  morning;  and 
Lady  Victoria,  outwardly  serene  as 
she  appeared,  was  sore  at  heart  as 
she  drove  along  the  dusty,  noisy 
Uxbridge  Road ;  and  so — and  so — no 
wonder  the  fine  old  lady  now  shook 
and  trembled,  her  soul  big  with  a 
new  purpose. 

She  rose  and  curtseyed  as  Edith 
was  led  up  to  the  arm-chair. 

Then  she  took  the  small  hand  in 
hers.  ' '  My  dear, ' '  she  said,  and  the 
young  girl  was  emboldened  to  raise 
her  eyes  by  the  soft  accents,  "I 


THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE      343 

know  you  very  well  by  name,  and 
perhaps  you  know  me  equally  well. 

My  son "  A  pause.  A  scarlet 

blush  on  the  remorselessly  exposed 
countenance  before  the  speaker. 

("It  is  all  right,"  cried  Lady  Vic- 
toria to  herself.) 

And  she  needed  no  eyeglass  to  tell 
her  how  becoming  was  the  blush — 
she  must  needs  break  off  short,  and 
fly  to  the  point  at  once.  "He  is 
looking  for  you  at  Ranelagh  to-day, 
and  you  are  here  instead?"  she  mur- 
mured interrogatively. 

"I  could  not  help  it,  Lady 
Victoria;  I  could  not  disappoint 
them." 

"Was  that — forgive  my  asking  it 
—your  only  reason,  Miss  Boscastle?" 

"Indeed  it  was,"  earnestly,  almost 
tearfully.  "I — they — it  was  an  old 
engagement,  and  I  knew  they 
cared, — it  was  not  like  an  ordi- 
nary party, — it  would  have  been 
unkind,  ^cruel,  to  throw  them  over. 


344     THOSE    SORT    OF    PEOPLE 

Oh,  you  know,   Lady  Victoria.     You 
would  not  have  done  it  yourself. ' ' 

Lady  Victoria  nodded,  her  eyes 
shining.  Then  she  slowly  rose  from 
her  chair,  to  hold  out  her  hand 
anew.  "Miss  Boscastle,  I  have  a 
proposal  to  make.  My  son  invited 
you  to  Ranelagh  to-day,  and  you  did 
not  go ;  will  you  come  there  with  me 
now,  because  his  mother  does?" 

"Oh,  Lady  Victoria  is  carrying  off 
Edith,"  said  little  Miss  Peters, 
easily. 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY 
AND  SONS  COMPANY  AT  THE 
LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


Little  Legacy 


Mrs.L.B.Walford 


m 

I 


BLUE  CLOTH  BOOKS 


